


That Saying About Dynamite

by CertainIdeas



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cheating, Creampie, Extremely Underage, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Large Cock, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Shotacon, Swimming, Swimming Pools, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertainIdeas/pseuds/CertainIdeas
Summary: A request from someone who read Learning Important Things, to be released in parts as I finish them.A girl is taken in with her boyfriend's younger brother, an eight year old with an unnaturally large endowment. She quickly takes advantage of the treasure she's found, and does so more often as they spend time together, in increasingly risky places.I thought I knew how many chapters I'd need to finish this thing. Now, I'm not so sure. Somewhere between five and ten, most likely.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 25
Kudos: 133





	1. Diving In Headfirst

**Author's Note:**

  * For [5mart_1di0t](https://archiveofourown.org/users/5mart_1di0t/gifts).



> The first chapter. In this one, it's a simple handjob. Also, my first time writing from a female perspective, so it may be rough around the edges.

I rapped my knuckles on the door loudly for what must have been the twentieth time, impatiently waiting for Max to open it. He’d told me to come at nine in the morning, despite knowing I hated doing anything substantial before ten over the weekend. On top of that, he hadn’t been by to let me in. I’d been waiting outside for at least ten minutes and counting. I was beginning to become more than a little upset. It was prohibitively hot today, and I was sweating a river.

I finally heard the sound of a key jostling in the lock and let out a sigh, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. I’d brought a spare change of clothes, just in case my stuff became too wet to comfortably wear later. It included some underwear; I wasn’t planning to wear my bikini all day, no matter how much Max might’ve liked that.

The door unlocked, opening to the sight of Max apparently unprepared for the pool date he’d set up, in jeans and a grey T-shirt. He looked slightly apprehensive for some reason, his arms not entirely slack at his sides. His eyes roamed my figure, slight disappointment showing through for a moment.

Despite myself, I rolled my eyes. _Did you really expect me to show up at your front door almost naked? I have_ some _decency, as much as my genes seem to protest otherwise._

He moved back into the entrance hall, letting me enter. As I stepped in, my skin rejoicing from the wave of cold, air-conditioned air that washed over it, he greeted me. “Hey, Beth.”

“Hey yourself,” I replied, taking in the inside of his house for the first time. It was tasteful, at least from what I could see. A framed landscape painting of a valley with a mountain range in the background hung on the wall opposite the door. It was open, the living room area situated adjacent to the room we were in, nothing more than an arch acting as a boundary. Their couches were leather, coloured blue, to go with their azure walls. Their TV was a large flat-screen, with a surround sound system.

I wasn’t even a little jealous. _What I wouldn’t give for just a fraction of this stuff._ Not at all.

I turned to Max, arms folded over my chest. I wasn’t nearly ready to let him off the hook. “Why’d you leave me outside so long? You realize you were the one to tell me to come here early, right? Were it up to me, I wouldn’t have arrived at _nine in the morning.”_

He had the good grace to look bashful, at least. It didn’t score him many points. “It was just ten minutes. It wasn’t that long.”

I frowned. “How did you know it was ten minutes?” Before he had the opportunity to answer, I bulldozed on. “You wouldn’t have known how long I was outside if you hadn’t heard me. You heard me and you ignored me for ten minutes, left me to stand in this heat.” I shook my head in exasperation. “This date is off to a fantastic start.”

He bristled, fixing me with a steady look that wasn’t quite a glare, but teetered on that precipice. “Listen, I’m sorry, alright? I was just doing something upstairs. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

I would’ve accepted the words, maybe. The problem was the apathy I could hear in his words, their insincerity. They were rote, said because he felt like they would defuse the conversation, not because he genuinely was sorry.

“No, I don’t accept that apology, not with that tone. You don’t get to get angry with me after you made me wait so long for whatever it was you were doing without, at the very least, _telling me_ you were going to take longer than strictly reasonable. Besides,” I said, gesturing to the door, “it wouldn’t have killed you to just unlock the door, then go back to whatever you were doing. I seriously doubt it was urgent enough that you couldn’t just leave it alone for the few seconds it takes to locate a set of keys and use them.”

“You’re getting angry over nothing. Ten minutes wouldn’t kill you.” He was trying to inject calm into his voice, but the edge was stubborn.

“No, it wouldn’t, any more than showing up late to a job interview would kill your prospective boss. That doesn’t mean it’s okay in either instance.”

“Yeah? Well, I honestly don’t see why you’re angry. We’ve waited in lines that took far longer than that.”

I couldn’t believe he wasn’t getting it. I couldn’t stand how prissy he was getting, despite being in the wrong. “Okay, first off, those aren’t even nearly equivalent. When we waited in line at the DMV, I _knew_ we were in for the long haul. I was prepared for it. Secondly, none of those people seeing us through claimed to be my boyfriend; they owed me their professionalism, nothing else. Thirdly, _you_ were the one who insisted that I come here at nine, so you should’ve been prepared for me.”

He took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. When he spoke, it was through teeth that just barely managed to remain unclenched. “I didn’t _insist._ I _suggested.”_

“Oh, my mistake, that makes everything okay. I’m fine with standing outside your house for another half an hour, if it was just a suggestion. It’s not like I have anything else I’d rather be doing.” I scoffed. “That wasn’t the point, and you know it. The idea came from _you,_ not me. I didn’t invite myself over; I wouldn’t have been so angry if I had. This was your idea, yet you left me to wait far longer than was necessary.”

He huffed. “I said I’m sorry. Isn’t that good enough?”

I shook my head, looking back at the couches. “You can be such an ass sometimes, you know that?” I averted my gaze, looking at the couches. “Whatever. Let’s just get to it.”

We walked tensely through to the kitchen, all granite surfaces and varnished wood, exiting through the back door into the yard. Max’s lips were drawn tightly the entire time; it upset me a little bit, I’ll admit.

_You don’t have any reason to be so unhappy. I’m the one who had to wait outside. I started wondering if you were even home. A simple, ‘I’ll be a while,’ over the phone or through a window would’ve gone a long way._

I took in the backyard as I looked for somewhere to set my bag down. It was neat, with short, well-manicured grass, uniformly green. Worlds better than ours. There was a patio with a wooden furniture set, off to the side, placed under an overhang. A sliding door led from there back inside, to the living room if my guess was correct. A few trees grew around the edges, flowerbeds ringing them in a rainbow of exotic petals. I’d never seen most of those species before.

As I set my bag down on the patio table, I turned my attention to the pool. It was large, set a few yards away, with a mix of slasto and brick serving as its paving. It looked deep, from what I could see, its crystal clear water dropping off to a point beyond my perspective. The mere act of looking at it was refreshing, especially in this muggy weather. I was almost able to let go of the lingering irritation. Almost.

What surprised me was the presence of another person there, his legs dangling in the water as he sat on the paving, idly swishing them back and forth while he played with a toy car on his lap. He couldn’t have been older than ten, short and slender as he was. His body was adorably small, his face youthful and bright, his brown hair hanging around his ears in a messy curtain. As far as I could tell, he was wearing only a pair of small trunks, as if he’d intended to swim as well. He hadn’t looked our way yet.

I glanced at Max, and saw him frowning at the boy. “Hey, Timothy!” Max said, voice raised. Timothy, apparently, jolted, looking in our direction with wide eyes, a deer in the headlights. “What’re you doing? I told you to stay inside.” Timothy didn’t say anything, remaining still. Even from where I was, I could see his knuckles whitening around his car.

“Well? I’m waiting.” Max looked to be getting more frustrated at Timothy’s reticence.

The younger boy looked down at his car, then back at us. When he answered, his voice was small, wavering slightly. “Mommy said I should stay outside with you while she’s out.”

Max barked a laugh, harsh and short. “Really? Oh, fantastic. She knows I’m having Beth over, right?” At Timothy’s nod, Max shook his head. “Brilliant. So, how does she expect us to have anything even _approaching_ a good time if I have to babysit you, huh? It’s bad enough that I have to look after you at all, and now she wants me to keep you around for this. What am I even supposed to do with you?” Timothy drew into himself again, refusing to look up. “Hey, answer me!”

I put a hand on Max’s shoulder, gently turning him to face me. His aggression bled away, apathy and resignation seeping in to fill its place. “Max, what the hell is up with you? You’re not like this at school.”

He seemed to be deflating, his expression edging ever closer to neutral. “Nothing. I’m just annoyed, that’s all. I made arrangements well in advance, confirmed everything in triplicate, but apparently my parents couldn’t give less of a shit.”

I looked over at Timothy, curled in on himself, glistening eyes firmly fixed on the bottom of the pool, clutching his car like a lifeline. My eyes went back to Max. “You didn’t have to lose your temper like that, not with him. This isn’t even close to something that warrants that kind of response. It’s not his fault they want him to be here.”

Max didn’t say anything more, simply walking back into the house, slamming the door shut behind himself. I watched him go, shaking my head.

I had no idea what was up with him. He’d always been a pretty cool guy at school, pleasant to be around and friendly to a fault, if a little arrogant. It was part of the reason I’d wanted to get to know him. Never, in the months I’d idly watched him, or the two weeks we’d been trying for a more formal relationship, had he behaved anything like this. I mean, sure, he’d been getting a little more guarded around me since we started dating, and some of his statements and actions had seemed odd, but nothing that hinted at this sort of behavior. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe things were tense closer to home.

Maybe, and I hoped dearly that this wasn’t the case, he was just like this in private. That was concerning, especially if he was so unable to hide it at home that he started losing his cool even with me here. What would happen once we were better acquainted? Would that aggression turn on me? Would we even last that long, if he acted like this the second something stopped going his way?

Timothy looked up a few seconds after the echoes of the slam had faded off, his eyes darting to and fro in an effort to find his brother. They settled on me after a while, the worry not bleeding off by much.

_He’s so nervous. He’s probably not much for talking, by the looks of him._

I gave him a smile, and he returned in kind after a while, though his was watery, tinged with anxiety and concern. I wanted to say something to reassure him, but I was drawing a blank. I decided to just get to changing out of my overclothes, since I didn’t think I was making him feel much better. I’d have to talk to Max about this. If his little brother was acting like this because of him, I wouldn’t be impressed in the least.

I removed my loose T-shirt and shorts, leaving me in my bikini. I adjusted the straps where they were biting into me. It didn’t do much, my figure a little mismatched to the small design of this swimsuit.

I would definitely need a replacement, and soon. My breasts were practically spilling out of the top, my areolae showing around the edges of the cups no matter how I positioned them.

_Thank you, puberty, for shaping me into the perfect two-dollar whore._

On top of its abject lack of adequate coverage, the fabric was so tight that my nipples seemed almost plainly visible, as if I were wearing body paint in the design of a bikini top.

And that was just up top. My bottoms were almost completely insubstantial, a supposedly standard bikini bottom that, on me, amounted to a woefully pathetic minikini that did little to provide any sort of coverage. Looking at myself in the reflection of the glass, I could see my labia sitting on either side of the fabric, the front section somehow having fallen partly _into_ my slit instead of sitting atop it, giving me something that was less cameltoe and more indecent exposure. I tried to dig it out and set it on top, but it simply sank back in over the seconds if I wasn’t actively pulling at it. I gave up after a few attempts, resigned to looking like a hussy. No doubt, it was even worse from behind. My ass cheeks had probably swallowed the back section whole, with how much they’d grown recently. I wasn’t willing to look.

_Seriously, screw you puberty. It sucks that I’m not even close to done. I’ll look like a cheap slut by the time it’s through, with the way I’m developing._

I would need to ask Dad if we could go to the shops over the weekend. I dreaded hearing that we didn’t have enough money in the bank to do anything substantial, but it was either that or decide to own this look. I was pretty sure I couldn’t, not that I even wanted to try. I’d have to buy something a few sizes too large, in anticipation for when I inevitably grew into something that looked even more like a tacky, over-modified pornstar.

I put my clothes and phone in the bag with one hand, fiddling with my bottoms with the other in an effort to obtain the smallest possible modicum of modesty. My reflection, once I was done, didn’t grant me much confidence. The strip was at least folded slightly less inward, even if its covering amounted to almost nothing.

I sighed, turning around. That only gave me a view of Tim, still watching me. His expression was odd, seeming pained as he held his car to his stomach, his small cheeks red. I started walking over to him and he looked away. I picked at my bottoms on the way over, trying to stop them from pressing down in all the wrong places, now that I was consciously aware of them again. Thankfully, it wasn’t bad enough to build to anything, coming across as annoying and slightly uncomfortable more than anything else.

I sat down next to him, putting my feet in the water. The cold felt amazing. I swished them around, letting out an involuntary sigh at how refreshing the cold on my legs was, on a day like today. I sorely wanted to jump in, but I also wanted to check on him. He didn’t look comfortable. I could guess the reason.

“Are you alright?” I asked. His eyes darted to me before they settled back at some point on the bottom of the pool. His arms clutched his car even tighter, and his expression became more strained. He nodded.

I put my hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. I don’t know if he was aware, but his eyes started closing slightly, his body leaning into me even as he tried to maintain distance. “You certainly don’t look it. You can tell me if something’s bothering you, okay? I won’t get upset.”

 _If it’s your brother, I’ll just be upset with him._ I shook my head. _Man, so many red flags are coming up right now, and we’re not even a month in. I seriously doubt this thing will pan out._

He didn’t respond immediately, struggling to find words with the limited ability he had to articulate his thoughts. Eventually, though, he settled on, “You promise?”

I nodded, trying to inject as much warmth into my smile as I could. “I do. Think of me as a listening ear for now, totally non-judgemental.”

He looked up at me, trying to gauge how sincere I was. I must have passed, because, after a moment to psych himself up, he spoke. “Max bullies me a lot. I try to be nice to him, like Mommy says I should, but it doesn’t work. He just gets meaner. I don’t know what to do.” His voice hitched at the end.

I leaned in, wrapped my arm around him to hold him closer. It broke my heart, to see such an innocent boy so anguished. And it infuriated me that it was the person I kind of liked who was causing him pain.

“He’s wrong to make you feel helpless. That’s not what a big brother is supposed to do. You know that, right?”

He nodded, wiping at his eyes before any tears managed to fall. “Mommy says she doesn’t like what he’s doing, but she never stops him. Daddy doesn’t even listen when I tell him. He just says I need to toughen up, that Max only hurts me because I let him.”

My face was stuck halfway between a frown and a smile, at that. I wasn’t sure how to react for a few seconds. “Really? He’s blaming you for what your brother does?” At his reluctant nod, I let out an incredulous laugh. “Seriously? What kind of machismo bu— uh, trash is that?”

“Daddy says I’m too soft, that people will walk all over me if I don’t solve my own problems.”

I could understand the value of assertiveness, especially for future careers, but this felt more like he was being encouraged to display a truly stupid level of suicidal aggression against any threat that came his way. “That’s not helpful advice. You’re what, ten?”

“Eight.”

“Eight. You’re eight, and your dad expects that you’ll be able to take on a sixteen-year-old in anything? He’s double your age, probably at least four times your strength, and he can think circles around you. You’re not old enough to be able to do anything, and telling you to punch so far above your weight category is about the worst instruction you could be given. Does nobody in your family stick up for you?”

He shook his head, the occasional tear tracking along his nose to fall off the tip, onto his car. His head was hanging, shoulders shaking slightly. The occasional sniffle came out, but I could tell he was trying to stifle it.

I decided that I would do something to make him feel better, in the brief period allotted to me. _I can’t imagine what it must be like for your own family to be against you. He needs to know that at least one person’s on his side._

I rubbed my hand along his arm on his left side, where I was holding him; his frame was small enough that his head didn’t even reach my shoulder, so I barely had to lean over. I made sure my touch was light. I liked it when my Dad used to do that, holding me close and tickling my skin lightly. It made me feel loved, like all was right with the world and I was secure. I wanted that for Timothy, since it was obvious his world wasn’t nearly as friendly.

More than that, though, I was hoping to get him to open up. He needed to trust someone, even if that person was me. He needed to know that someone cared.

I thought of how to phrase my question. I didn’t want to sound like I was blaming him for everything that had happened, but I might be able to put _something_ of a solution together if I had a better grasp of the situation from multiple perspectives. Max might just be a sadist, but there was a chance that he had a legitimate — to him, at least — reason for putting Timothy down. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, even angry as I was with him right now.

“Timothy,” I said, keeping my tone as gentle as possible. “Why do you think Max bullies you?”

He drew into himself, taking his legs out of the water and crossing them, pressing the car to his stomach even harder. “It’s embarrassing.”

 _So, there’s a reason that he knows of? Or, at least he thinks he does._ “What is it?”

He shook his head. “You’ll think it’s weird. Everybody who found out thought it was weird.”

I was hitting a roadblock. I needed to get him to understand that I was completely on his side, no matter what. “Tim, if you’re afraid of me laughing at you, or calling you names, or making fun of you with your brother or someone else, I promise I won’t. I just want to know why you think he likes to bully you. I’m not making excuses for him — quite the opposite. I want to understand how everything looks to you, alright?”

He loosened fractionally, a little of the tension fading from his limbs, though he didn’t go all the way. He looked up at me, the quintessential picture of a hurting child who’d just been handed a lifeline. His eyes were misty, though there was a little hope there. He leaned into my one-armed hug a little bit more than before.

“You won’t make fun of me? You won’t think I’m weird?” There was so much desire there, just to have one person approach him as a child should be approached, with care and affection. My heart ached at the fact that he thought he had to make sure before he was willing to say anything more, even with the offer of help firmly on the table.

I put a hand on my chest, drawing an imaginary X. “Cross my heart.”

Despite my assurances, he still seemed to need a few seconds to think it over, weighing up the pros and cons in whatever childish manner he evaluated such things. Eventually he must’ve judged any potential losses to be worth it, even if just for a moment of understanding, because he unwrapped himself gradually, letting his legs unwind until they hung back in the pool, lifting his head, and moving his hands to get the car off his lap.

Once the toy was removed, the fabric of his pants stretched, the profile of a cylindrical object of considerable length and width outlined alongside his right leg, trapped in there with it, doubling the apparent girth of his thigh as seen through his trunks.

My mind struggled to get up to speed with my eyes for a bit, mental processes bluescreening while I played catch up. It was the unexpectedness of the whole thing, I think. I never would’ve expected something so big on a body so small, and so it just didn’t register for several seconds.

There was a rod in the right leg of his pants, stretching it out several inches beyond what was reasonable, creating the impression of a python more than an appendage. Pressed flat against his stomach, it would have surpassed the level of his navel, reaching to his sternum, maybe even a little beyond. I wasn’t quite able to put the picture together, my thoughts flowing around what I was seeing, none of them quite engaging it directly. I was frozen in a single moment of contemplation, my brows furrowed as I tried to connect this to anything I understood, failing rather abjectly.

Then the fabric twitched, and the world came back into focus. I knew what this was. I knew that it was something I shouldn’t have been seeing. I knew that something of its size most certainly didn’t belong on a boy so young.

 _How…? That’s… that’s his penis. That’s his…_ My mind stalled again, thoughts spiralling into a chasm before they were buoyed on recovery. _How the hell is it so large?! Even adult men are smaller on average!_

It wasn’t just big — based on its profile within his trunks, it was enormous. His was one of the biggest I’d ever seen, without the aid of prosthetics. I wasn’t open about this with anyone — why would I be? — but I watched porn when I was looking to get myself off. I loved the sight of a penis swelled in erection, throbbing and pulsating and looking for a place to bury itself. I loved watching it let go of its load, seeing its seed drip out in rivulets when its new receptacle was overfull, white cream coating its surfaces as it twitched in climax. I loved imagining myself in the place of the actress, claimed and cum-soaked and lost to lust.

A little overly descriptive, maybe, but I had a point. I was well-acquainted with the sight of penises in or out of pants, even if I didn’t have any practical experience. This, though, beat me out on all fronts. I was not prepared, not even close. It was bigger than most, attached to a body that seemed too small to support it, the cock of a pornstar on the frame of an adorable child. My brain didn’t just read this as juxtaposition; it saw it as a flat out contradiction.

I managed to tear my gaze from his bulging trunks with great effort, the black mountain of cloth still taking up a significant portion of my attention despite my attempt to direct my focus elsewhere.

I looked at his face, fixing my eyes to his, and stammered out, ”That… that’s… something. It’s big.”

He nodded, worry clear in his expression. “I don’t want it to do this. Max gets angry at me when it points up. He’s mean to me normally, but he gets even worse when I can’t control it.” He started tearing up, wiping at his eyes with his palms as the tears started rolling down again. “I don’t know why it’s doing this, and I can’t get it back down. I try a lot, but nothing I do works, and Max likes to bully me.” He started sobbing, his words difficult to make out between his wracking gasps. “I just want it… to go down before… he gets back, otherwise… he’ll get angry with me… again tonight.”

My heart broke. I gently reached over, scooped him up and sat him down on my lap. He was so light, so _tiny,_ that it barely required any effort. I held him, my head resting on his, my arms around his stomach. My breasts lay on his shoulders, hugging his head on either side like a pair of ultra-soft cushions. I may not have been proud of my figure, but I was grateful for the comfort it could provide him in this moment, as unusual as it was.

He started settling down, but his corded muscles didn’t unclench at all, even with me trying to make myself a refuge for him. I was at a loss. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to comfort him, but I knew hugs worked for me. Maybe this would help him, even if it didn’t seem to be doing nearly a good enough job now. I could only hope it would, with how traumatized he seemed to be.

_Max, I am going to murder you, you contemptible little cunt. What would drive you to bully a child for… I mean, it’s probably inadequacy or a complex or something, but that doesn’t excuse it!_

I would have _words_ for Max once he came back. Strong ones, spelled with four letters. What he was doing was not okay, not in the least. The fact that he could bully a child for being born with something he clearly never wanted was sickening to me, especially because that child was his brother.

A bit of fabric rubbed up against my hand, and I peered around Tim’s head to see what it was. I was immediately jolted out of my reverie, the situation registering with me once more in all its lunacy.

The rod shoved down his pant leg was pulsing strongly, in time with Timothy’s heartbeat. It undulated slightly with each wave of blood that passed through it, looking for all the world like a snake lying along the length of his small thigh for warmth. It wasn’t growing, but it was so proudly displayed I could almost believe it was.

I swivelled my head around Tim’s, looking at his face. His cheeks were crimson, his eyes saucers. He was still sniffling, more because he couldn’t stop than out of lingering sadness, but those sounds were mixed in with others, almost silent vocal exhalations that were more indicative of another emotional state. His tear-stained gaze turned to meet mine, and he looked away almost immediately. The red crept up his ears, marking the tips into tiny nubs of flame.

Moving his head just caused his cheek to collide with the breast on that side. Weak as it was, his jostling made my breast pop partly out of the cup, its hold there tenuous even before his movements agitated it. It was in plain sight of him, the nipple within licking distance of his mouth. I was frozen for a moment, embarrassment at my predicament taking control of my nervous system.

He jerked away almost immediately, but the damage was done. His penis twitched violently, the fabric of his pants soaked as a stain of precum spread out from the point where his tip was located. He whined wordlessly as his tapering sniffles became closer to heavy sighs, his legs shuffling restlessly atop mine. I _just_ managed to stifle a moan of my own, as his unwitting ministrations rubbed the strip of my bikini that was wedged up my slit against my clitoris. I hadn’t even realized I was aroused, but I couldn’t deny it now. My eyes were firmly fixed to his disproportionate bulge as a shudder spread through me, breath leaving me in a warbling sigh as I shook.

Forget before, I was at even more of a loss now. I’d never gone beyond heavy petting and dry humping, but I’d heard enough about stuff like this from other girls who’d gone all the way before to know what was going on. He was painfully aroused, wanting to get off desperately. The problem was, I don’t think he knew how to do that. He was thrusting slightly, his body twitching at odd intervals as his breathing tempo increased, his sobs petering off as emotions other than despair came to the fore. His little heartbeat, felt through his ribcage as I held him, was strong as that of an ox, its speed doubled.

Part of me wanted to put my breast fully back in its cup and forget this hadn’t happened, despite knowing that it wouldn’t solve much; his erection would still be there when his brother came back, and, no matter what I said, he would still be bullied once I was gone. Maybe even worse, if Max thought I was taking the opposing side.

Another part of me, the part that was in control right now, wanted to see how far I could take this. My pussy _ached_ as he pressed against it with the small of his back, stimulating me in too mild a fashion to get me off. My mind was consumed with thoughts of his penis, imposing as it was, wet with the evidence of his arousal, more monstrous than any other I’d seen even while covered. The bulge in his pants twitched deliciously in time with his puttering heart.

The heat was increasing in increments by the second, and I somehow knew that it wasn’t environmental. My skin felt hot to the touch, like I could sizzle an egg on it. My mind was swirling with fog, thoughts racing through, most centered on one thing.

_I’ve never touched one before._

_It’s morally reprehensible. He’s too young._

_It’s just a touch. Besides, the rest of his day will go more smoothly if his brother doesn’t see this. I’d be doing him a favour._

And it wasn’t even a lie. I wanted to help him, and this was the most expedient way. If I could get him off now, have him deflate in time for his brother to get back, then his night would be better, according to him. This would undoubtedly be for his benefit.

_Yet you would benefit from it as well. You know you’re also going after pleasure here._

_Sure. I expect it to be good, though I bet it’ll be far more than that._

The thought of what this penis could do to me… my cheeks flushed at the images that ran through my head. I suppose I’d been hoping that today would be the day Max and I got started down the path to sharing everything with each other, at least in some capacity. Maybe that was why I’d gone with a bikini that was several sizes too small for me, instead of just explaining to him that I didn’t have any swimwear. I just wanted to feel someone hold me, to get intimate with someone as we worked to a combined climax, feeling him claim my deepest areas as his own, giving a gift that could only be given once.

But, giving that to Max, after all I’d seen? I couldn’t, not in good conscience. I would much rather repay his brother, show him that the aberration that’d only ever caused him strife could be used as a tool of pleasure. Maybe, if I was lucky enough, I could show him everything. He deserved to experience every iota of pleasure I could give him, far more than his brother.

_At what cost?_

_I don’t know. Let’s find out._

I reached out with a shaky hand, placing it on the tip of the tent in Tim’s pants. His squirming redoubled, small whimpers escaping him as he fidgeted, until enough of his lucidity returned to him to register what’d just happened.

He stopped moving abruptly, as best as he was able, focused on my hand atop his shaft. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, looking away when my gaze met his. His face was still red as a beet, his flesh as warm as it was soft, barely older than that of a toddler’s.

I lowered my head down to the level of his ear, whispering, “Tim, this is uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

He breathed in deeply, swallowed past a lump in his throat. When he spoke, his voice was as small as he was, leaking desire. “Yes.”

“Would you like me to help you? I can make it go down,” I said, swirling my fingers around the tip through his pants, tempting him with the promise of sumptuous delight without fully committing. I wanted to hear it from him..

He inhaled sharply, his left leg twitching. He fought to control his breathing, his chest rising and falling with the rapidity of a hummingbird’s. Eventually I decided to take mercy on him, halting my ministrations, allowing him the opportunity to answer me clearly.

He did so, with just one word, so soft I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been close enough to smell his cherry-scented shampoo, a trait that only increased my estimation of his cuteness.

His answer came out desperately, a plea for the suffering to end, to reach a state of comfort and security and unity unmatched, to experience more than he ever had with another person. ”Please.”

I nodded, absurdly pleased with his decision, whispering, “Okay. You’ll enjoy this, I promise,” while I rubbed his tip just once more, a final appetizer before the main course.

I moved my hand down to his waistband within seconds, the span of one of my hands as wide as the total breadth of his hips, yet it felt for me as if my progress could be measured in hours. I wanted his penis out now, to see its length, to feel its girth in my palm, to rub my fingertips over his glans and make him squirm in delight.

I slowly peeled his trunks away, the waistband lowering in millimeters until it reached an obstruction. I slipped my fingers underneath, sliding them slowly up from the base of his penis, along the shaft, the trunks following my motions. His cock was thick enough for me to comfortably encircle it with my hand.

Tim let out a sigh, his voice weak and impassioned. His pelvis thrust up almost imperceptibly, the rest of his muscles relaxing until he was leaned fully back against me. My breasts rested on either side of his head, the one still out of its cup, the other only barely hanging onto its false modesty. I tried to imagine how he probably thought of them: soft, warm marshmallows, the gentle curves of cumulus clouds given form. He sank down, his eyes half-closed, his breath coming out in sighs of anticipation.

My hand reached the tip of his penis, then passed it, the trunks following. His cock flopped out, whipping back to slap against his stomach before it stood back up, wobbling less by the second, until it was standing upright from his pelvis, so large and thick that my hand went back to it of its own accord, stroking it before my brain even registered the desire to do so. I had to stop myself from salivating.

_This is the single most alluring thing I’ve ever seen, yet it’s attached to someone cute as a button. The contradiction is practically evil. This cock just oozes pure indecency, absolute obscenity, and he’s anything but that._

And it wasn’t just the penis itself that had whipped my lust into a storm. His balls were huge for his size, hefty and gorgeous, glistening with the precum that’d dribbled down the salacious length of his cock while he’d been sitting there, watching me as I unwittingly exposed myself to him while changing.

I wanted to cup them, to feel their lurid weight slide over my fingertips, even as they were encased in his sack. I wanted to lick from his perineum to the base of his penis, my mind consumed with admiration for his balls as he shuddered from the movements of my tongue, moments before I took his sack into my mouth, sucking and jostling it within as he lost himself to desire, his body going limp.

I didn’t. It was far too soon, and my position was completely wrong. I focused, instead, on simply grabbing his penis from the base, and pumping up, then back down. I repeated that once I was gone, settling into a slow, gentle rhythm that I felt was appropriate for this inexperienced tyke.

Tim had melted into me, his mind overtaxed with the burden of all this stimulation. His eyes were half-lidded, staring at nothing. When he breathed, I almost expected it to condense in midair, with how foggy his mind had become. I breathed in the scent of his shampoo, the smell of cherries a perfect complement to his short brown hair.

The only thing that moved with any consistency was his pelvis, rocking up to encourage my ministrations as I slowly pumped his penis from base to tip, rubbing my thumb around the glans when I was close enough, spreading his precum over the skin. The rest of him twitched idly, all thought lost, reason secondary to his mounting pleasure.

I reached forward with my other hand, adding it to my efforts, the precum that dribbled out of his small penis slit more than sufficient to coat his cock in lubricant. My hands slid over its surface, their combined effort making it far easier to cover the entirety of his enormous shaft.

My pussy was soaked by this point, but I didn’t do anything to address that. I felt an obligation to Tim, to make him feel better, at least for the moment. How long had he suffered bullying by the hands of a brother who blamed him for his own inadequacies? How long had I not known of his plight, ignorant to the cruelty of which Max was apparently more than capable? How long had he been forced to simply endure, too small in frame, too underdeveloped in mind to be able to fight back just yet?

He deserved this. He deserved to feel good, for the years he’d been here. He deserved to experience some measure of pleasure, even if it was just for today. How ironic, that the very thing that got him in trouble would be the source of his enjoyment.

I sped up as his twitches became more regular, his breathing more laboured. His eyes shut completely, his mouth dropping fully open to gulp in the air he needed to keep up with the demands of his body as it told him to get ready for the ride of his life.

Between breaths, he managed to squeak out, “That… f-feels nice.”

That, more than any sounds he’d made so far, motivated me to bring him to the greatest orgasm I could. I took one hand off stroking duty, placing it instead at the tip of his penis, the palm encircling his glans. I squeezed, just enough to know I was applying pressure, but not enough to damage anything or cause him any pain. His back straightened fractionally, a darling whimper emerging from the base of his throat. I don’t think he was even aware of it, so lost to pleasure in this moment.

I began working his glans over, twisting, stroking and rubbing with intent, even as my other hand continued its stroking. He whined again, long and joyful and needy, as his arms grasped at my bikini bottoms, narrowly missing the knot that kept them barely hanging onto me. The bottoms shifted to the side as he wiggled against them, exposing my pussy to his clothed ass, letting my copious juices drip to the floor. I hummed in unmet desire as the stream was let loose, determined to bring him to orgasm before I dedicated so much as a single thought to my own.

It wasn’t long now. I could see it in the rapidity of his breathing, the twitches in his legs, the incoherent, adorable sounds he was making now that his mind was totally taken in by the improper act we were committing, the pure smut and sensuality of it all. His nerves were firing off signals that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of at his age, stimulating muscles that weren’t even tangentially related to that which currently had us enraptured.

I saw his balls clench first. They retreated into his body, pumping the first load up his shaft, tangible, delightful evidence of the first orgasm he’d ever had, and at my hands. A thought occurred to me then, one I wished I’d had sooner.

_Where am I going to put his cum? I can’t let it get on the paving; I can’t let Max know what we were doing._

I thought through the haze of my own lust, in the fractions of a second that we were afforded to me, and only one option came to me in that eyeblink.

I tipped his penis down to point directly ahead of us, still pumping away with one hand as his cum surged up his length. My other hand, the one around his glans, was repositioned to sit directly in front of his tip.

Just in time, too, as the first wad of delicious, vulgar cum shot out of his penis, splattering against my hand with the force, but thankfully not violently enough to separate completely and land on the pool paving.

More came after that, shot after shot, dollop after dollop, creamy, thick, white semen shooting directly onto my hand, coating it until it was a filthy mess.

Tim shook all this time, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his back ramrod straight, his beautiful mouth open in a silent scream. I was half-tempted to kiss him. His hands were clenched around what he could reach of my bikini bottoms, his toes curled up into little bundles as his legs vibrated, his muscles totally out of his control as he tried and failed to rein his sensibilities back in, to fight against the electric current of undiluted glee currently coursing through his every cell.

His production slowed, but not all at once, not quickly. It was a gradual decline, the time between spurts increasing, the amount produced decreasing. It took upwards of ten seconds for the flow to dwindle to nothing, just small drops of white fluid emerging from the tip of his penis, too small to break off under their own weight and hit the ground.

I gathered those up on my hand as well, slathered in cum as it was. It’d been absolutely basted in his production, coloured an off-white that looked at once depraved and delightful.

_It’s hard to believe he can produce anything at his age, let alone this much! It’s sinful, the mess he made of my hand._

Tim slowly came back to himself as I examined his cum, watching how it languidly crawled across my palm when I tilted it, thick and viscous. His muscles gradually unclenched, his mouth closed, and his eyes opened. He looked around with eyes that seemed to see everything, and yet not enough.

His gaze caught my hand, semen-coated, glistening. He turned his head to see me, still reclined on my lap, wide-eyed, confused and elated. “What was that?” he asked, awestruck reverence in his voice.

I smiled, patting his head with the hand that had stayed relatively clean. “That was to help you. I told you you’d enjoy it, didn’t I?”

He nodded mutely, simply basking in the afterglow as his penis deflated, staring at me the way I imagined cavemen stared at the first of their number to have harnessed fire. I envied him, worked up as I was, but I wasn’t about to pressure him into anything so soon after his own climax.

He was about to say something else, had just opened his mouth, when we heard footsteps approaching from inside, a wooden board squeaking.

I acted immediately, grabbing Tim with one hand and set him on his feet within two seconds, a feat I hadn’t thought I could perform despite his lack of heft. I whispered urgently, “Get your pants on, quickly!” He did so in record time, pulling them back over his penis in one smooth motion, tucking it in properly a moment afterwards, as the head stubbornly peeked out over his waistband despite how quickly it was losing its solidity.

I pushed my exposed breast back into its cup and pulled my bikini back over my slit, more or less, scooping as much of my fluid away as I could with one hand, hoping Max wouldn’t notice my arousal.

I realized, just when I could hear him nearing the door, that I still had cum on my hand. I began to panic, frantically wondering what I should do about it.

A thought came to me, debauched and base, and I immediately committed given my dearth of options. I brought my hand to my mouth and licked across my palm, up my fingers, between the creases and empty spaces, gathering it all up into one stream that ran down my tongue to the back of my throat in large, thick, wet clumps. I took each finger into my mouth individually, spending no more than a second on each, sucking the last vestiges of cum off of them.

I swallowed it all as fast as I could, but it was difficult, too viscous to comfortably move quickly. That was the only reason that I was able to savour its saltiness, feel its warmth, register the slight chlorine smell as it slid down my throat.

I looked down as the sliding door opened and I swallowed the last gulp, to see Tim looking at my hand, then at me. His expression communicated a silent question, though he didn’t dare to say anything now that Max was back.

Max approached us in his trunks, his eyes flicking to Tim, a darkness overtaking his expression for a moment, before they settled on me. He was visibly taken aback now that he was closer, his gaze straying away from my face to take in my breasts, sliding down from there to rest on my pussy, almost totally uncovered as it was. He didn’t say anything for a bit, simply staring. I felt immensely embarrassed, being ogled by him like this, but I thought it prudent to play it up. I didn’t want him to suspect anything untoward.

I cocked my hips to one side, resting my right hand on them. When he looked up from his unabashed examination, I gave him a smirk that I certainly didn’t feel. I was feeling more nervous than feisty, but I couldn’t let him know that. I didn’t want him to be any harder on Tim than he already was.

He said, after an extended silence in which he tried to find his voice, “You look good.”

I snorted. “Thanks.” I pointed behind me with my thumb, the one that, not even half a minute ago, had been slathered in a generous helping of preteen semen. “Now, enough ogling. Let’s jump in. I’m sweating bullets here.”


	2. Submerging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. This one was difficult to get out, for some reason. I really had to work at it.
> 
> The one with a little playing around in the water, a blowjob, and some sex. I have no idea how anything relating to female anatomy feels, much less during sex, so this is all liable to be extremely inaccurate.

I took part in the usual tomfoolery while in the pool, swimming from one end to another in impromptu races against Max, playing silly wrestling games in which we both inevitably cheated, and trying to dunk him under the water while he did the same to me. Most of it devolved into ruthless combat, wars that were waged entirely through splashes and delighted screams, the cold shock downright pleasant against the unseasonably warm weather.

We were both well-acquainted with pools, fortunately for me. I may not have been the school’s poster child, but I was in the swim team, and I’d like to think I did reasonably well for myself. I’d never place first, but I was able to push for third if I really put in effort.

In the here and now, in a competition based entirely on acting rather than athleticism, I’d like to think I did well. I’d like to think Max didn’t suspect a thing. I’d like to think that I appeared fully engaged the whole time. Because, the truth is, I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. I hadn’t felt this distracted since third grade, when my energy had built to a crescendo with no outlet and I’d been recommended medicine that had just been another expense for my parents to foot.

My eyes kept flicking back to Tim, in the moments when I knew Max wasn’t watching me, busy swimming under the water, or clearing his eyes, or relaxing on his back with his eyes closed, gently floating around under the power of the gentle, almost nonexistent, currents in the pool.

Tim was watching me the whole time, his car toy clutched to his chest again as he sat at the edge of the pool. Now that I knew it was there, I looked for his penis, half of me hoping to spot his erection tenting to magnificence, to see the precum dripping out in a thin stream, to eventually catch his cum on my tongue and swallow it with all the enthusiasm of a dying woman in a desert. The other half, the sensible one, hoped he was able to keep it down while Max was here.

Fortunately for him and my reasonable side, unfortunately for my lust, he was able to stave off another boner. He kept the car on his lap anyway, a lifeline should something go awry. His gaze didn’t waver from me, settled on my face most of the time he thought I wasn’t paying attention, raking up and down my figure in the moments where his courage reared its head before retreating once more..

Difficult as it was, I managed to sneak the occasional peek. I was curious and unbelievably horny from earlier; sue me, I was still in the throes of puberty, and I liked porn. I surreptitiously positioned myself at various points so I could catch a glimpse of his penis through a pant leg, long enough to be plainly visible through the hole even while flaccid. I was thankful for the fact that I was so wet from the pool already, most of me submerged below the surface, or I might’ve had a bigger problem than I already did, hiding my arousal. As it was, my nipples had remained stubbornly erect throughout, though I’d been able to pass it off as a reaction to the cold water.

I was horribly aware of how revealing my current outfit was, how much Tim could see of me. I should’ve been bashful, should’ve found it disheartening as I had just a few hours hours ago.

I didn’t. I quietly revelled in it through my flushes and exclamations of embarrassment, in his blush every time my top proved insufficient, every instance where my flimsy bikini knot would come undone, leaving me exposed until I got my bottoms back, every moment Max lavished jealous kisses on areas he probably shouldn’t have been kissing in front of Tim, looking back to see if his brother was paying attention. Bastard.

I loved Tim’s earnest attraction, his childish puppy love, even as part of me pushed back against the attention being heaped on my figure.

I barely paid that part of myself any attention. For some reason, despite knowing he was focused on me, I didn’t feel sheepish. Even acknowledging it in my mind didn’t break the spell.

Eventually, Max decided he was hungry.

“I’m gonna head off to the store quickly, get us something to eat.”

I frowned. “Don’t you have anything here?”

He snorted. “Sure, if you like a steady diet of nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Mom doesn’t cook, so we just get takeout or ready-made meals from the supermarket.” His gaze shifted to Tim for a moment, though the malice was lessened compared to before. “Watch him, please. He can fuck up pretty much anything, given the opportunity.”

I nodded, even as I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Max. like you were never eight.”

He smirked, though there was an edge that told me this wasn’t meant as much of a joke for one half of his audience. “I was better behaved than him at that age, I’ll guarantee it.”

“Oh, shut up.” I splashed him, and he jumped back in surprise and shock at the cold. “Honestly, getting into a pissing match with an eight-year-old.” _That he’d probably win._

“Ah! Fuck, Beth. That’s cold!” he shook slightly, shivering.

I laughed. “Really? You’ve been in the water the whole time.”

“This is different and you know it.” Now that I was looking for it, I could hear the undercurrent of irritation below his otherwise calm tone. Had it always been there, or was that new? Was it confirmation bias at work that I was hearing it, or was it really lurking just below the surface at any and all provocation, ready to lash out at the easiest target? I didn’t like the doubt. It made me feel uncertain. That, historically, didn’t end well for me.

He started back to the house, his words reaching me on the breeze as he went inside. “Why haven’t we installed a heater yet?”

I cocked an eyebrow at the complaint, though he wasn’t here to see it. Were I him, I would’ve been happy to have a _pool._ Then again, I probably would’ve been as spoiled if I’d been raised as he had.

 _Case in point,_ I thought as I heard the car start up. _His parents can afford to pay up if he gets caught driving solo with a learner’s permit. I’d be straight off to juvie with parents crying behind me all the while._ I couldn’t believe I’d ever found those ‘rebellious’ affectations attractive before. It all just seemed stupid now.

I turned back to Tim, seeing him staring at me. I chuckled to myself and made my way to the steps, getting out of the pool with all the grace my too-small ensemble afforded me. Tim’s eyes tracked me the whole way, watching even once I was standing on the paving, dripping water onto the brick and slasto.

Something inside me loved his gaze, single-minded and guileless. It was something I normally tried to avoid, physically disproportionate and mismatched as I was, but there was something different about the way he looked at me, something far purer than most stares that followed me over the course of a day.

There was lust there, yes, but also innocence, a childlike wonder that could be seen in the wideness of his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture, the tilt of his head. I was something new to observe with all the rigour available to an eight-year-old, more a mystery than an object. It was as precious as it was precocious, his understanding that he wanted me, and his ignorance of _how_ he wanted me.

I wondered, for a single moment, how I could extend his limits further without forcing him into anything. I wanted it to be his choice, to have him eager to let me see him again, to get him curious enough about what we’d already done to show me more than he already had, to let me demonstrate to him just what we could do together in return.

I let go of those thoughts almost in the instant they arrived. They were stupid fantasies, most likely, not to mention completely immoral. It was far safer, far saner, to keep away from thoughts like those. I’d already taken a massive risk with the first thing I’d done, and that had been a spur of the moment decision. Having time to think my options over meant that I had an opportunity to be more sober in how I approached things. It would be stupid to go back on that for the sake of a momentary thrill.

_I say, as I approach an eight-year-old with little but lust on my mind._

I came over to him, and he quickly whipped his head back down to look at the pool once more.

I bit my lip, trying my hardest not to squee, unable to suppress my smile. _So adorable. You deserve so much more than you’re getting, Tim._

I sat down next to him again, putting my feet into the pool, looking at his short legs as the tiny circles they’d been drawing settled into stillness in apprehension.

I looked at his face. He wasn’t looking back, doing his best to keep his gaze off mine. His cheeks were red, colour bleeding off into his small chest, up along the sides of his head to the tips of his ears. His eyes darted around the small area he allowed, unwilling to focus on me now that I was reciprocating.

_Embarrassment, or something else? Does he think I’m angry with him? I did play with his brother for some time. Maybe he thinks it’ll be back to business as usual from now on, that I’ll choose his family’s side._

That wouldn’t happen. Nevermind that I wasn’t even that attached to Max, that we’d only been trying this out for half a month out of a mutual desire to explore how affectionate we were towards one another, rather than out of any genuine love we felt for each other.

Leaving those facts aside, I never would’ve been able to be mean to him, even if I were in love with Max enough to marry him on the spot. It was unjust, what their family had been doing. Trying to get one over on a child, helping with that — I’d feel awful. Even ignoring his plight, pretending everything was okay, discounting him as a person — I just couldn’t bring myself to consider it.

His life was a mess, and I wanted to do my best to fix it. Failing that, I wanted to be the one bright spot he had, the eye in the storm, a God ray in grey skies. I wanted for him to feel okay when he was around me. I didn’t want him to hide.

I lifted a hand, placed it down on his leg, next to his car. He tensed, his eyes widening fractionally as he inclined his head away from me. I’d seen that pose before, in documentaries about animal abuse. Protection meant either shying away or lashing out. The species was wrong, but the instincts were familiar regardless.

_Even after what we did, he’s still so skittish. This can’t stand._

I repositioned my arm so it encircled him, pulling him into my side as I rubbed along the leg furthest from me. He shrank into himself even then, probably thinking I meant to do something meaner than what I’d intended. I needed to say something, but I didn’t want it to be heavy. I wanted to distract him from his fear.

“Tim,” I said, “do you like cars?”

He looked up at me sideon, confusion and wariness evident. I smiled, pointing to his toy. “I didn’t mention it before, but I noticed your car. Is it something you’re interested in?”

He looked down at his car, then back up at me. His eyes indicated a question, one he might not have felt confident enough to voice. Instead, he simply nodded.

“Do you know what the make of your toy is?” I asked.

He nodded again, his voice escaping this time. “Ferrari Enzo.” There was a beat before he added, “Type F one forty. V twelve.”

“Wow.” I didn’t even have to fake the surprise. The make, I might have expected. Name, sure. Maybe even the letters and numbers associated, whatever they might’ve meant. That said, I would’ve expected only one of those. All of it together, with so little hesitation, that was what’d thrown me for a loop.

“Okay, you must _really_ like cars. I wouldn’t have remembered even one of those.”

He nodded, a little more confident. “Cars are cool. There’s so many pieces, and they all do different things.”

“What are your favourite parts?”

“The pistons, crankshaft. They’re pretty cool.”

“How come?”

He started getting a little animated, beginning to incorporate little movements into his speech. Not quite gestures, but the beginnings of them, his arms shifting around his Ferrari as he spoke. “Well, they’re the things that make the engine go. You know how there’s sometimes that scene in movies where the camera zooms into the engine and you see the can-type things going up and down?”

“Mhm.”

“Those are the pistons. Fuel comes in from the injectors, it’s blown up by the spark plugs, and the piston shoots down before it comes up again. The crankshaft turns that up and down movement into spinning, and that turns the wheels.”

“Is that why you like them? Because they power the car?” I wanted to keep him talking. He was beginning to peel himself off the car slightly, his hands freed up for fractions of a second before he seemed to realize what he was doing.

He nodded. “Yeah. Plus, they’re what I think of when I think of the engine, ‘cause an engine can’t work without them. Those pieces are like the heart of the car. They pump it, make it go. If you didn’t have them, your car just wouldn’t start.”

“So you like them because they’re so important?”

“Kinda, but lots of stuff in a car’s important. I like how they look, all shiny like a new fork. Plus, those scenes where the camera looks at them closely while they’re moving are really cool, so I like that too.” He was smiling slightly, looking down at his car.

I hummed in agreement, trailing my fingers lightly along the skin just beyond his pant leg. He seemed to like it, gingerly putting his hand on top of mine, resting his head against my side.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I asked.

He perked up at that, frowning in concentration. “A race car driver,” he said, after some internal deliberation. “I want to race on a track, like NASCAR or Formula One.”

“Like Michael Schumacher,” I said, pulling out the only name I knew. I must’ve done something right, because he smiled wider, nodding vigorously, his little head bobbing with gusto next to me.

“Yeah. Or Richard Petty.”

“Who’s that?”

“The King!” He said it with such conviction that I couldn’t help it as my smile widened.

“I’ll bet they’ll start calling you things like that once you start racing.”

He smiled back, bashful, but feeling safe enough to confide in me. “I hope so. It’d be so awesome to drive as fast as the best racers.”

I nodded, and we lapsed back into silence. The difference, this time, was that the silence was comfortable. I didn’t feel like I had to say anything for a while, just stroking him as he leaned into me, idly toying with his car, rolling the wheels over his lap as his mind was caught up in thoughts of packed racetrack stands and circuitous drives at breakneck speeds.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. The heat of the sun was beginning to make me uncomfortable. My back felt like a slice of roadtop asphalt at midday. Even with the sunblock on, I didn’t want to spend too long like this.

I eased away from Tim, separating from him as I dipped lower into the pool, until I was more in than out. I crouched down, knees bent in the shallow end, my back submerged.

I turned to him. “You’ve been sitting on the side all day. Why don’t you get in the water with me?”

He grimaced. “If Max comes back and I’m in the pool with you, he’ll get mad.”

“We don’t have to tell him,” I hedged. “The only people who’ll know will be me and you.”

“Not if he sees us when he gets back.”

“Even then, we can be quick about covering it up. We were before, right?”

He blushed, didn’t offer a response to that. Even without concrete knowledge of what’d happened, it seemed that he understood enough about the situation to feel bashful. Instinct, maybe, or intuition.

I ambled over until I was almost directly between his legs, looking up at him. I had to fight not to look down. I was still curious as hell, but I knew that drawing attention to a major insecurity for him would only sour things in this moment, no matter how innocent or well-intentioned I tried to appear.

“Hey, come on. I promised not to tell Max about the other thing we did, right?”

He nodded, still blushing in full.

“And did I lie to you?”

He shook his head, slower this time.

“Then I can promise that I’ll do the same now, alright? I won’t tell him about us playing together in the pool, if you don’t want me to. I’ll just pretend I’ve been sitting on the patio chairs or something while you took a dip. He won’t know we’ve been having fun without him.”

He looked down at his car, frowning pensively. I floated below him, waiting to see what he decided.

It took a while longer than it might have with another child. When he raised his head, he looked conflicted, like he was anticipating a scolding from the door any second now. His eyes even flicked in that direction a few times, just before he gave me a small nod.

I smiled reassuringly, moving back as he pushed his car to the side, setting it down on the paving before he lowered himself into the pool. He stopped a few times, gasping in a breath at the cold, but he powered through.

After several dozen agonizing seconds he was done, the water up to his shoulders. He kicked wildly with his legs, head bobbing from side to side as he doggy paddled his way over to me.

His face was drawn at the low temperature, his eyes opened comically wide. “It’s so cold!” he exclaimed, between rapid, shallow breaths.

I laughed and swam over to him, grabbing hold of his sides to steady him. His movements slowed slightly when I got a firm hold of him, his arms windmilling through the water less, his kicking not as frenzied. His expression still looked as uncomfortable, but that was understandable. It could take a while to get used to water at this temperature, especially after sitting on hot brick for what must’ve been close to an hour that I’d seen, if not slightly more.

I pulled him along with me, directing him back to the wall. He grabbed it as soon as he was in range, pushing off my legs to reach it. His grip was firm, his knuckles white. Though, I suppose that wasn’t much of an indication of anything when most of him seemed significantly paler from the cold.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I had to place a hand over my mouth to hide my amusement. My tone probably gave me away, so it was likely wasted effort.

He nodded, speechless for a moment as he slowed his breathing. “I thought if I got in slower it would help, but it was still cold! I wish we had a heater.”

I wish I had a pool, I didn’t say.

What I did say was, “Well, you’re small and pretty thin. You probably feel the cold a little worse than I do. You’ll get used to it in a bit, then it won’t be so bad. Though, I am a little surprised that you’re not more used to swimming, since you have a pool.”

“Max doesn’t like me swimming when he does.” he supplied. I couldn’t say I was feeling particularly surprised, from the little I ‘d seen of them together. I had a feeling that was a theme with him, being barred from activities he might enjoy.

That sort of restriction was doubly unfair, since Max was on the swim team at school. I imagined he spent a good chunk of his time in the water, whether it be at home or away.

“Well, Max isn’t here now, so pool access is free. You at least know how to swim, right?”

He nodded. “I used to go to a swimming teacher, Mrs Du Plooy. She has a big pool in her backyard. Bigger than this one, even!”

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen her, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah.” He looked a little put out by that. “She was nice. Mommy and Daddy didn’t like her much, but she was always nice to me. Then they stopped sending me one week, and I didn’t have another lesson with her. I haven’t seen her since then.”

I didn’ want him getting bogged down, not now. I thought of how I could distract him. An idea came to me, based on what we’d just been talking about.

“So you and her learned quite a bit? Would you like to show me?”

He looked back to the wall, then at me. “Will you help me? I haven’t swam in a while.”

I nodded. He steeled himself, then let go of the wall. He slowly made his way to me, doggy paddling with a ferocity that didn’t get him anywhere quickly. That was fine. I’d give him points for trying, and so hard, at that, even if the technique was entirely absent.

He reached me in a state that I knew wasn’t exhaustion, but didn’t look much different, his frown deepening all the while from exertion and concentration. I grabbed him, eliciting a small yelp, and swam over to the other side, where the water was shallower.

I dropped him, letting his feet touch the bottom of the pool. Even here, away from the deep end, the water reached over his shoulders while he was on his tiptoes.

I tried to think of something to do with him, now that he was here with me. Swimming practice really hadn’t prepared me for entertaining a child in a pool. My exposure had been strictly for the sake of exercise, during school swim meets. I knew some games, but I didn’t know if he’d enjoy any of them.

“How about we play something simple?” I asked. “Have you ever tried Marco Polo?”

He shook his head, struggling to keep his chin above the sloshing waves even on his tiptoes. “Most of the games I played with Mrs Du Plooy were stuff about kicking my legs and keeping my head above the water. I don’t know what Marco Polo is.”

“That’s fine. Marco Polo is a game sort of like Tag, where one person is it, and the other people have to avoid being touched by them. The difference here is that the person who’s it needs to close their eyes and listen for the people they’re supposed to be catching.”

He frowned. “That sounds really hard.”

“I know. Don’t worry, though. You’ll get the hang of it quickly. It sounds much harder than it actually is. To make it easier for you, I’ll go first, okay? That way you can see how to play.”

I glided slowly into the center of the pool. When I turned back around, I saw Tim looking at the distance between us, his eyes straying over to the house.

“Aright.” I might’ve been louder than strictly necessary. It got the job done, as his attention was firmly on me again. “Now, the way this is played is that I close my eyes and spin. While I’m spinning, you have to move into a position where you think I won’t expect you. Once I’m done, I’ll say ‘Marco.’ You have to reply with ’Polo.’ I try to home in on your position, you try to get away as quickly as possible.”

He raised a hand from the wall, pointing straight at the sky. I was confused for a few seconds, until it clicked. “Yes, Timothy?”

“Can you just keep saying Marco over and over again so I have to keep saying Polo?”

I blinked. “That’s a good point. No, I don’t think that’d be fair. How about we put a time limit on it?” He nodded. “Ten seconds?” A tilt of the head, then another nod. “Alright. I can say Marco once every ten seconds, and you only have to say Polo so long as I’m obeying that rule. Does that work?”

He nodded. “That’s more fair.”

I closed my eyes and started spinning. It was slow at first, and didn’t build up to much more. I heard the water sloshing against me as I spun, and some more in the distance — Tim was moving, though I couldn’t really tell where to, or how fast he was going.

I stopped after a few seconds. I’d been going too slowly to get dizzy, but I was disoriented all the same. I wasn’t sure which direction I was facing, and I was willing to bet that my estimation was far off the mark.

I heard ripples breaking against the wall to my left, a body moving through the pool in a manner that was about as far from stealth as a submarine is from being a spaceship. I thought of just lunging, but I buried the inclination. I’d give him the benefit of beginner’s leniency. It would be really cruel to exert any form of superiority over him, especially when I’d gotten him to let his guard down a little bit.

“Marco,” I said.

“Polo,” came the reply, though it was far softer than I’d been expecting.

_Is he trying to stop me from hearing him? Is that a violation of the rules?_

I decided against it as I slowly moved in his direction. I’d allow him that advantage. With the noise he was making, it wasn't much of one.

His yelp was a surprise. High-pitched and short, a little panicked. I was splashed a fair amount as his movements became more vigorous. I stopped short, debating whether I should open my eyes.

There was no need. The noise died down again, going back to the gentle slosh of water at some point further along in the pool, straying closer to the deep end.

I’d lost count, so I waited another ten seconds, listening as he made his unsubtle exit. I thought I heard something like a giggle, but I couldn’t be sure. It might’ve just been the water.

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

I went a little faster this time, angling in for him, trying to pin him against where I thought the wall might’ve been. His yelp was quieter this time, the delight more evident. I was relieved. I was doing something right, it seemed.

I chased him around the rim of the pool, trying not to depend on the wall too much for direction. His little yelps were soon joined by giggles. They were small at first, as if he were afraid that simply making sound would bring something down on his head.

He moved away faster, having circled around until he was in the shallow end once more, giving him a tiny bit of leverage on top of the grip I presumed he was keeping on the wall. His laughs became a little more regular with our distance.

I lunged then. I covered half the distance between us, if I was gauging things correctly, kicking up a wave of water that surged towards him. I heard a gasp, accompanied by frantic noises of movement. Water slapped sharply against the wall on the far end of the pool, impacts staggered out as different sections of the large ripple hit unevenly.

I stayed still, letting him get away. I knew where he was, but I’d let him keep thinking he was winning a moment longer. Small victories. He needed those, at least.

The giggles started up again, despite him not having covered quite enough distance to be safe. I turned my head to him.

“Hey, you’re looking!” he said, though the accusation had no heat, buoyed by small laughs.

“I’m not,” I said, injecting as much obviously fake indignation into my tone as I could. “You’re just not very sneaky.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.”

“Am too! If I was a spy, I wouldn’t even need gadgets. I’d be like Jason Bourne, but even better.”

I smiled. “Really?” I edged closer to him, so slowly I doubted he saw.

“Really. Like, you know that part where the other assassin catches him in his house, and he points a gun at him, but there’s no bullets in it?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d be like that, except he wouldn’t even know I was in the house. He’d turn around, and then he’d see me, and he’d start panicking.”

I chuckled, half because of how close he was letting me get, and half because of how he saw the story. “I’m not sure Treadstone agents _can_ panic. They get nervous, sure, but they don’t lose their cool.”

“Well, then I’d be so good he’d panic anyway.” From his tone, I assumed that was the final word on the subject.

“Well, fair enough.” I was very close to him now. “There’s just one problem with that plan.”

“What?”

“Treadstone agents always expect the unexpected.” I almost didn’t lunge in the moment after, as I processed how stupid that line had been, but I just barely managed to swallow my embarrassment. To an eight-year-old, it was probably genius.

What came out of Tim wasn’t a yelp — I would be remiss to call it anything other than a squeal. I grabbed him around the shoulders even as he made his best attempt at shooting off, his body rocking in my arms as I opened my eyes.

His smile was wide, his eyes closed for a moment as he anticipated a splash of water against his face. He erupted into a tide of giggles, high and exuberant, as I lifted him out of the water to hold him against me, my right arm hooked under his bottom, gripping his thigh.

“Got you,” I said, as his eyes opened.

He continued giggling a little while longer as I held him against me, keeping him above the agitated water. It swirled beneath us, the result of our combined efforts to force our way through. Well, most of the blame was probably on me, but I could pretend otherwise.

Tim slowly calmed down, enough to speak coherently. I wasn’t so sure anything had been funny enough to warrant this level of amusement, but I’d let him enjoy it. “How did you find me?”

I smirked. “Well, it was actually pretty easy. You were talking the whole time.”

He frowned, then gasped as his eyes lit up in realization. “You tricked me!”

“Not really. I was just talking. You chose to talk back.”

“Nuh-uh. You told me I didn’t have to say anything if you didn’t wait ten seconds.”

“That was for us saying Marco Polo, not for talking in general. The rules are that you _must_ answer if I say Marco when I’m allowed, but they don’t say anything else. Besides, you were trying to trick me too. You were so quiet that I wouldn’t have heard you saying Polo if it wasn’t so quiet.”

Tim looked down, a little of his excitement gone. “Oh, yeah.”

 _No, come on. I didn’t mean it like that._ I lifted him up, lowering myself to make up the difference when he was mostly out of the water. “Listen, I’m not angry. It was clever, that you’d interpret the rules like that. I wasn’t expecting it, and I think most kids wouldn’t notice that loophole. It didn’t work, but you tried. I like that, and I’ll bet many other people will too.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced. I bit back a sigh, hoping my smile still looked genuine. “Anyway, it’s your turn to come after me. You think you’re up for it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll be as good at it as you were.”

“You’ll be fine. If I could do it, with you being as sneaky as you were, you’ll definitely be able to find me.”

I didn’t wait for an answer, knowing that he’d still be a little put out by his apparent failure. I set him down in the shallows, then swam over to the deep end. I turned back to him, the conflict clear in his features. “Come on. Just one round. If you don’t like it, we’ll just hang around for a bit.”

He took a moment, long enough that I thought he might decide to call it a day. I couldn’t help the smile when he closed his eyes. “I think I forgot something,” he said.

“You need to spin for a bit.”

“Oh, right.” He started up so gradually that I almost missed his movements. Even once he’d built up some speed, his spins were slow. While the ripples obscured things somewhat, I could see that he was struggling a bit, his toes barely scraping against the floor of the pool. He’d had an easier time of standing, but I supposed that was because there wasn’t much movement to make things difficult for him, either from the water or himself.

Still, he gave it a valiant effort, managing three and a bit revolutions before he stopped, facing a direction perpendicular to me, his left shoulder almost squarely aligned with my line of sight.

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

He turned towards me and started doggy paddling slowly over. His head was raised far above the pool’s surface, his face scrunched up oddly, probably in an attempt to keep the water out of his nose and mouth, even though his elevation rendered that moot. I smiled, keeping my chuckles down. I couldn’t help it. It looked unexpectedly silly.

I waited until he’d drawn near, then threw myself to the side, making sure to stagger my movements so I could make as much noise as possible. He stopped, lifting his head even further as the miniature wave I’d inadvertently created washed over his chest and neck, looking like a wobbly buoy in a storm.

Once the ripple was done, he lowered himself back down and started zeroing in on my new position with an intensity that only determined children could possess. I moved again once he was close enough, this time focusing on making noise while minimizing the amount of water I threw around.

He followed me slowly, haltingly paddling through water. More than ten seconds had passed, I was pretty sure, but he wasn’t saying anything. I put that down to a combination of not wanting to open his mouth, and feeling that he could find me just fine even without asking me to broadcast my position.

We continued like that for a bit, him paddling over until I felt he was almost close enough to touch me, me lunging away in a very loud, obvious manner, always along the wall of the pool. I knew he couldn’t tell where that was, but I felt it made things fairer, limiting my movements to one dimension.

A little while after the start of the game, I felt a bit of loose fabric brush against my leg. That’d happened a few times already, my bikini string tickling along my thighs in a way I found pretty irritating. I absentmindedly brushed it away while I pushed off to surge away from his hand again, feeling the pressure on my lower half settle in fractions.

Tim reached for me in a sudden burst of speed, his hand missing me by bare inches, his fingers stretching out as far as they could go before he retracted his arm as he sank, bobbing back up while his head shook from side to side in time with his kicking.

I laughed a little, and he smiled in response. That was good, that he could acknowledge my humour not being intended as cruel. It felt like a victory, that I’d gotten him to trust me more than his brother, even though he’d only known me a fraction of the time.

_I don’t think I like your brother much. Don’t know what I’m going to do about that, since it’s going to be pretty awkward when he gets back._

My eyes flicked over to a shock of colour in the pool. I didn’t make much of it, beyond thinking that it was curious. I tried to identify it as I danced away from Tim, but the ripples made it a little difficult to recognise. When I realised what it was, though, I stopped short.

I looked down, confirming what I’d just seen. I felt like an idiot, especially because this wasn’t the first time today that it’d happened. No wonder my bottoms had felt looser. They were as loose as they could be, enough that they weren’t on me anymore. The pool was wearing half my costume.

I thought about what I would do, panicking at first. I could ask Tim to stop the game for a bit, to keep his eyes shut because I’d had a wardrobe malfunction. I knew he’d listen, with what I’d seen of him so far. It would be the smartest thing to do.

Failing that, I could sneak over to that side of the pool, retrieve my costume with my foot, and surreptitiously put it back on while I continued playing. Tim was slow enough that it wouldn’t be much of an issue. I could definitely do it and he’d be none the wiser.

A third option came to me, an option that could be categorized only as needlessly stupid, risky and perverted. I could keep my bottoms off, continue playing, and possibly give Tim a little shock. Idiotic, but ultimately harmless, provided I played it off correctly. If Max were here…

It occurred to me that that thought was odd. If Max were here, I probably wouldn’t even consider this a possible avenue. I hadn’t considered it earlier, when the same thing had happened with him in the pool. I’d been embarrassed, but there’d been no arousal to go along with it, no drive to entice him, just the desire to cover myself up again as quickly as I could. Shame, without any daring. There was unquestionably arousal now — it was probably half my motivation to do this at all. The other half, I couldn’t even begin to make out. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff with a bungee rope tied around your ankles, a mess of emotions that pointed to eagerness and fear all at once. I didn’t know how I would decide what to do.

I didn’t get to make my decision, not of my own volition. While I was distracted, Tim bumped into my side, a surprised squeak coming from him. I looked at him, seeing his eyes opening. He looked at me a moment, before he started smiling.

“I got you!” he exclaimed, his grin toothy and delighted. “I caught you, and I didn’t even have to say Marco!”

I froze, entering a state of indecisive deadlock, before a choice was made. The stupidest choice for this situation, but not the stupidest one I’d made today.

_Sorry, Tim. I have to see where this goes._

I smiled at him, slowly making my way over to the shallow end. He started paddling to follow. “That’s great! You did so well! Better than me, even!”

He swelled with pride at my statements, at least as much as was possible while every limb he had was rapidly gyrating. “Yeah, I did! It took a while, and I started thinking I couldn’t catch you, and then you went quiet. I was gonna say Marco, ‘cause I didn’t know where you were, but then I caught you.”

“That was amazing.” I wasn’t even really lying. Despite his efforts adding up to something subpar, his determination was something else. “You really surprised me at the end. Because you did so well, I’d like to give you a little reward.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

Here we go. No backing out after this.

I didn’t answer immediately. Once I saw that he was able to touch the bottom of the pool again, even if he wasn’t doing it right now, I grabbed hold of the wall and shimmied up. I twisted so I was sitting, facing him from a much higher position.

His eyebrows were drawn together into a frown, though he wasn’t upset. He _was_ very obviously confused, judging by his widened eyes and slightly open mouth. “Where’s your costume?”

I feigned confusion, spreading my legs slightly, just enough to give him a glimpse, but not enough to let him see anything substantial. “What do you mean? I’m wearing it, see?” I gestured to my top, still on me, however precarious its perch may have been.

“The panties. It’s…” He turned around. “It’s there!” He turned back to me. “Should I get it for you?”

I shook my head, widening my legs a little further. “No, that’s fine. I’ll get it a bit later. If I put it back on now, it would be a little difficult to give you your reward.”

“What do you mean?” He asked the question, but by the way he was looking at the area my bikini should’ve been covering, I felt that some part of him knew the answer. I just had to help that part communicate it to the rest of him.

“I mean, how would you like to have a hands-on education for some stuff that most kids only learn later on?”

“Okay.” His answer was flat, but there wasn’t any comprehension in his face. By the end of this little session, that would most likely change.

“Good,” I said, widening my legs about as far as they would go. It felt supremely wrong, but in a way that I wanted to prolong. I couldn’t think of a word for it off the top of my head, but I was sure there was one.

“The first lesson concerns what you and I have between our legs.” As I said that, I noticed that his hands had gone from idly floating near his shoulders to under the water, around a rather familiar package. “I’m guessing you already know what I’m talking about, there.”

“You mean my willy?”

I couldn’t help it. The word was so out of place that I laughed. He frowned, unsure of what had been so funny. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just… that’s correct, I guess, but I think we’ll have to call it something else.”

“Okay. Pee-pee?”

I guffawed, holding my face in my hands as I tried to hold in my laughter. Dammit, this was destroying any raciness the scenario might’ve held! “N-no. I don’t… we’ll go with something a little more mature, I think.”

“Oh. I don’t know any words that fit better.”

I looked up. My face was probably red from straining against the laughter. Screw it. He’d completely destroyed the atmosphere, so I doubted it really mattered one way or the other.

“It’s fine. I’ve got quite a few that’ll work. The one we’ll go with for now is ‘penis.’”

“Penis.” He repeated it to himself, rolling it over in his head. “Penis. Is that where pee-pee comes from?”

I snorted, trying to hold back. “M-maybe. I’m not sure where that one comes from.”

“Oh.” He looked between my legs, his expression pensive, a little pained in a way that was beginning to feel a little familiar. “You don’t have a penis.”

“No, you’re right. See, you’ll learn this in high school biology and health classes and whatever else they shove at you. Boys and girls are pretty different, in some ways.”

“High school?” Somehow, that was what he was caught on, even in this situation.

“Yeah, high school. I told you you’d be learning this early, right? Nobody else in your grade will know anything about this.” _Probably._

“Oh.” His face lit up slightly, before he seemed to focus more. “Okay. So I’ll be more grown up than the other kids in my grade?”

 _You have no idea._ “Definitely. So, the first thing to know, is that boys and girls fit together.”

“You mean, friends?”

“Well, that’s possible, I suppose. I’m not sure kids of your age know how to make friends across the gender divide, but weirder things have happened. In this case, though, I meant it physically. You’ve got a penis, as you know.” I reached down and separated my labia, presenting myself to him. I doubt he realized it, but he leaned forward when I did that. “I’ve got this hole here. It’s got a few names, same as yours. Kitty, box, pussy, lily, flower, rosebud, twinkle — my parents went through quite a few of those before they felt comfortable just calling mine my flower.”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“No, it’s just a nickname, like wee for a penis. This hole, right here, is the vagina.”

“Oh.” He didn’t say much else; the discomfort was plain to see.

“I’m guessing your penis is getting bigger again.”

He lowered his head, looking for all the world like a scolded dog.

“No, that’s not a bad thing. It’s not even your fault. It’s mine.”

He looked back up, frowning. “How is that your fault? It’s part of me.”

“Well, that’s to do with what I told you about earlier. Boys and girls fit together really well. This is one of those ways. You’ve heard of cooties?”

“Yeah, you get them from girls.”

“Well, that’s kind of useful for explaining what’s happening here. It’s a little difficult to explain at your level, but a basic summary would be something like this: your body sometimes does things even if you don’t want it to, like forcing you to breathe after holding your breath for too long.”

“So I can’t faint from holding my breath?”

I shook my head. “No. Your penis is kind of like that. It’s got some things it does on its own. Getting big, or erect, is one of those things. The easiest way to do that is to look at parts of a girl we normally use underwear to cover up, like the vagina, bottom, or breasts.”

“So… I get like this because I saw your vagina?” I nodded, ready to continue, but he seemed to be interested in asking questions. “So, that’s how it’s like cooties? Because I get like this from girls?”

I nodded. “That’s right. Except, it works in reverse. While boys say you get cooties from girls, the easiest way to get rid of an erection — a big penis — is to have a girl help you.”

His eyes lit up in understanding. “Like you did earlier!”

“Yes, but there’s stuff we can do that lasts longer, and feels even better.”

He looked gobsmacked. “Better than that?”

“Yep. I can show you some of it, if you’d like.”

He was eager, I could tell. If his expression didn’t communicate that to me, the way he was practically vibrating filled in the blanks. Even so, he looked towards the house, some fear colouring his expression.

I squashed the question before it could be asked. “If your brother comes back, we’ll get dressed just like we did last time. We’ll have even more warning, with the way he drives, so there’s no chance he’ll catch us.”

He absently bit his lip, then made his way to the stairs. I hopped back in the pool, quickly retrieving my bottoms, then came out after him.

“Let’s go to the patio,” I said. “The deck chairs will work well for this.”

He led the way. While his back was turned, I fiddled with the knot at the back of my bikini top, shifting it around so I could reach it. It was uncomfortable, just as it had been to put on this morning. Again, I had to wonder why I hadn’t just told Max I didn’t have a costume that fit me. I was sure I’d had a subconscious ulterior motive in wearing it, but I didn’t feel the discomfort was worth the payoff.

I managed to undo the strap, then pulled the whole thing over my head, thankful for the high fences bordering the property. I bunched it up into a wad, together with my bottoms, and placed them down on the patio table as I reached it.

Tim turned around as he reached the deck chair, the type with a long seat and slanted back that you often saw in movies that took place on cruise ships. He looked at me as he sat down, looked down to make sure he was sitting correctly, realized what he’d seen, then looked at me again, eyes wide. I held my arms at my sides, aware of how exposed it left me.

It was stupid, but I couldn’t help asking. Even if validation came from a child, I felt like I needed it. “How do I look?”

He didn’t say anything. I had to wave at him to get his attention, divert it from roaming my figure. His voice, when it came out, was floaty. I didn’t miss how the tent in his pants seemed to be throbbing noticeably in time with his heartbeat. “What?”

“I asked how I look.”

He licked his lips, a blush spreading out to cover his face. “Really pretty.”

It was my turn to blush, I was sure, so I tried to distract him. “I’ve got all my clothes off, so I think it’s only fair that you do the same.”

He might’ve argued under different circumstances, but there wasn’t enough blood available for him to formulate a response. So, while there was a pause as he tried to think, maybe to remind me of the risks of his brother coming home and seeing this, it didn’t come out to anything more than, “O-okay.”

He grabbed the waistband of his pants and lowered it. His penis followed the movement for a bit, sitting increasingly flush against him, the shaft emerging in increments like a third leg, until it was clear of its confinement, springing up to point directly in front of him. I found myself wishing that he weren’t so wet — it obscured my estimation of his arousal, the inability to see how much precum coated his tip.

He dumbly held his bunched trunks in his hand, unsure of where to go from here. I took them from him and gestured for him to sit down. He did, carefully placing himself on the edge of the deck chair as I placed his trunks on the table.

He put his hands on his crotch, but it didn’t help much. There was more penis there than hand. Were I feeling hyperbolic, I’d have said there was more penis than arm, but that would’ve been pushing it.

I bent down and gently removed his hands from his groin. He looked at me as I did so, uncertain. I smiled at him. “It’s alright. I’m not Max, okay? You already know I won’t make fun of you or give you hassles for this.”

He didn’t reply, but I don’t know if that was entirely due to reticence. His penis lifted up as his hands were separated, coming up to press against his stomach, reaching a good distance across his abdomen, the glans rising past the base of his sternum. His breath hitched.

I spoke to him as I watched it twitch and bob against him, my gaze unwavering through most of it. “I’m going to do something I’ve been interested in trying for a while now. It’ll feel really good if I manage to get it right. I thought I’d be experimenting with Max, but, well… that’s not really in the cards, I think. Still, it’d be a shame if I didn’t get to try it today, don’t you agree?” That last question was accompanied by a smirk, my eyes flicking to Tim’s face.

He gulped. “What—” His voice hitched, and he had to start over. “What are you going to try?”

My smirk widened. I had no idea where this confidence was coming from, but I loved it. I spoke as I kneeled between his legs. “Just watch.”

With that, I grabbed his penis, opened my mouth, and licked the tip.

That’s about as far as I got in the moment.

He jerked back a little, just enough that my tongue was no longer in contact with his glans. “What are you doing? That’s dirty!”

I looked up at him, mentally off balance. “I’m giving you a— I’m doing something nice.”

“Like what you did earlier?” I nodded. He seemed vastly more lucid now, recounting his manners. “Then why don’t you just do that, with your hands? I pee from there, and Mommy says you have to wash your hands after using the toilet for anything, because you might put the stuff on your w— on your penis or bum in your mouth, and then you’ll get sick.”

I had to take a moment to think, unexpected as this was. “I could, but this’ll feel way better. Plus, I won’t get sick. Other girls do this kind of thing all the time, and they’re fine. Pee is actually pretty clean, it just tastes bad.”

His face scrunched up in disgust. “You drink your pee?”

“No, I don’t!” This conversation was getting away from me at a rapid pace. I had to steer it back, quickly. “I’ve never drank pee. I’m saying that, _from what I’ve heard,_ pee tastes bad, but it won’t make you sick. Plus, what I’m going to do won’t be making pee. It’ll be making the same white stuff as before.”

“The stuff you licked off your hand?”

“Yeah, that. Semen, or cum.”

“Semen?” He seemed to consider that for a moment, the disgust slipping away. I wondered whether I should just take charge and get back to my aborted blowjob, up until he asked, “Did it taste good?”

Despite my eagerness to get to the main attraction, I didn’t answer immediately. It was his semen; in some weird way, I felt that he deserved a thought-out explanation. “Kind of. It was pretty salty, and a little bitter, but I can’t say I _disliked_ it, not really. I’d need to have a little more to make a judgement call on that.”

He looked down at his penis. It twitched in my hand, pushing itself back so that it would’ve slapped his stomach, had I not been holding it. “You really want to have more of that stuff?”

“Only if you want to give it to me.” It occurred to me that I hadn’t actually gotten his consent for this when I’d given him the handjob; I’d just dived in. Now that we were both thinking, I wanted to establish that this was something that he actually wanted, not something he felt compelled to do. “I didn’t ask you earlier, and I should have. Do you want to feel good like you did earlier?”

He looked from his penis to me, putting his thoughts together. “It felt really nice.”

“I’ll bet it did. This, if I do it right, will feel even better.”

“Oh.” I got the feeling he was going to say yes, after I’d confirmed that — this was just him convincing himself that it was the right choice. “You won’t get sick?”

I shook my head. “I can promise you, whatever comes out of here won’t make me sick. Alright?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he licked his lips again, looking at me, on my knees, lips hovering over his cock, its length pulsating in time to his heartbeat. He drew in a breath, leaned back, and nodded.

I gave him a smile. This time, I was careful to go slowly. I didn’t want to spook him.

I brought my tongue down to his glans, running it over its surface. He shuddered, but didn’t move to stop me.

Oddly — well, not really, given what we’d just been doing, but I found it odd anyway — his penis tasted like pool water layered over nothing much. I’d expected something else, I guess, like a faint saltiness or a tang, bitterness or musk, maybe. Not something this plain, more akin to licking a just-washed finger than something as erotic as this.

I slid my tongue down the back of his glans as I lowered my mouth to it. My top lip touched the tip and I opened my mouth a little wider, moving my head down to start taking it in. My teeth bumped against his flesh, raked across it a short distance, and Tim sucked air in through his teeth.

I lifted my head up a bit to look at him, taking my mouth off his penis. His eyes were narrowed in discomfort, possibly pain. I started worrying. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm. That just hurt a little.”

“My teeth?”

He nodded, his expression returning mostly to normal. “Yeah. I didn’t like that much.”

I was sure I was blushing, with the heat I felt in my cheeks. “Sorry. Like I said, it’ll feel great if I get it right. I just have to not mess up.”

He frowned, looking concerned. On him, the expression was adorable. My blush intensified, and I knew it wasn’t due to shame. “It’s okay. I liked the other stuff you were doing.”

I nodded. “I’ll try not to scrape you like that again. Is it alright if I get back to it?”

He nodded, untensing a little. He still watched me carefully when I lowered my mouth back down, letting my tongue drape over his glans as I readied myself to try again. I wondered, for a moment, how painful that would’ve been.

An image came to me, of a person roughly running their teeth along my clitoris. I winced involuntarily. If what I’d just done felt anywhere near as painful as what I’d just imagined, I couldn’t fault him for being wary.

I opened my mouth wider this time, hopefully enough to avoid contact with my teeth. It should be enough, but I was still a little nervous. The last thing I wanted to do was make this unenjoyable for him.

I took the tip into my mouth, running my tongue along the frenulum to ease it in. A sigh reached me, and I looked towards Tim. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing deep and slow. He noticed me watching him, quietly remarking, “That feels really good.”

I wanted to respond in some way, but everything I could think of would just make this harder or more unpleasant for him. I decided to respond by my actions, taking a bit more of his penis into my mouth, until my lips had cleared the base of his glans, moving on to the shaft.

He leaned back a little more, looking more relaxed than earlier. I tracked my progress by the contours of his penis against my tongue, the elastic strip of his frenulum against my taste buds, the smooth skin of his shaft beneath rising up to cover more and more of my mouth’s surfaces. His tip reached further back, until I felt its end nearing the base of my tongue.

I’m not going to gag on this. I want to make it pleasurable, but I have to be careful. Retching here would turn him off, possibly for life. I should’ve practiced on something.

I carefully forced myself down a little further, a scant fraction of an inch, until I was at the edge of discomfort, then started rising again. I came up past his glans, my lips rising above the ridge that separated it from the rest of his cock, until just the tip was in my mouth.

Based on what I could see of my leftover saliva glistening against the sunlight, I hadn’t gone very far. On another penis, the distance I’d travelled probably would’ve been admirable for a beginner. This, though, was a whole other deal. I hadn’t gone halfway down, not even close, yet I’d reached my limit. I might’ve decided to try for something more, were I not well aware that this was the extent of my abilities for now. I refused to try for a deeper insertion out of pride, only to vomit all over his lap. I’d never forgive myself.

I contented myself with the thought that Tim was enjoying this, if his barely perceptible quaking was any indication. Even though he was supporting himself on his elbows, something that should’ve been easy, he didn’t look like he could hold onto his stability. I had to wonder at his sensitivity, if I’d barely started and he was already beginning to give in. Now that I was watching, it stood out to me. _I_ didn’t even get overwhelmed so quickly, and I was pretty sure I was more sensitive than most.

I started back down, aiming to reach the same spot as earlier. Tim’s hips subtly shifted upwards, aiding my efforts as his penis slid through my mouth. I started feeling uncomfortable again, roughly at the same spot as before, and reversed direction. I stopped again once I was at the tip, then made my way back down.

I established a pattern slowly, with a few unintentional stops to place his cock back in my mouth when it came out completely, or to give myself a moment when I pushed my luck and almost ended up gagging by extending myself too far.

Despite my mistakes, Tim looked to be having a grand time. He shook in turns, his legs quaking as I gave him a blowjob as best I knew how. There were moments where his hips shifted upward to help me, like they had before, but it was never too much to deal with. His movements were never drastic, so I was able to compensate for them pretty easily — that was probably owing to his small frame giving him fewer degrees of freedom.

Once I was confident in my rhythm, I decided to add in my hands. I should’ve done that from the beginning, now that it’d occurred to me. Actually keeping the thing in my mouth would’ve been worlds easier if I hadn’t decided to go hands free for no good reason.

I carefully placed my fingers on the shaft of his penis, holding it like I had earlier in the day, before our swim. I stopped bobbing with my head, turning my attention to getting the grip right. It was easier when I wasn’t thinking about it. Now, I was running up against the centipede’s dilemma.

Tim’s eyes opened slightly from their slack state of half-seeing, his focus restored a bit. He looked blissed out, almost incapable of paying attention to the world beyond me, him, and his third leg.

I finally felt that my grip was good enough, and, meeting his eyes and holding that gaze, started bobbing my head and hands to a rhythm I played out in my head. It was tricky at first, one or both dropping out of sync despite my best efforts, but I managed to correct them each time.

Eventually, I was pumping away at his shaft in earnest, my head reaching down to its safe stopping point with each bob. The feeling of his skin stretching and squirming under my fingers and lips felt exquisite, despite its simplicity. It wasn’t even due to the sensations themselves: the fact that I knew he was deriving enjoyment from this was enough stimulation to light up my core with arousal.

I kept myself facing him, staring into his eyes even though his sentience had retreated once more. His face, amazed, overwhelmed, joyful, slack, so many more things all at once, drove me mad. I reached down with my free hand, feeling for the valley beneath my stomach, the beginning of my vulva’s entrance coming into clarity as my hand travelled ever down.

I wish I could’ve claimed it was soaked. I was certainly feeling more than horny enough for that to be the case, and I wholeheartedly believe that it was. Unfortunately, all I could feel was the pool water that covered the rest of my body. There was almost certainly some lubrication under there, but I couldn’t distinguish it from the rest of the liquid on me.

I didn’t waste time getting myself ready — able to feel it or not, I _knew_ my vagina was soaked. There was no way I’d be feeling this heat without that being the case. I went straight to inserting two fingers, leaving the rest of my hand to tease the outside. With my thumb, I devoted some attention to my clitoris, already free of its hood. If I looked, I knew my vulva would be engorged, puffed up to look so much like a petal from its namesake.

I focused on keeping my rhythms up during that time. It was tough at the beginning, with one aspect falling off the radar momentarily as I focused on another, only to be kicked into gear once more when I realized that I’d stopped. Sometimes I’d stop feeling the motion and fullness I so loved down below, and spend a moment wondering where the pleasure had gone before it clicked with me that I’d simply stopped masturbating. Other times, I’d halt my pumping, or hold my head still for a few seconds as my mind struggled through the rising tides of bliss to direct my movements. I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but I outright forgot to address Tim’s needs at all at least once, so focused was I on stuffing myself full, imagining that my fingers were Tim’s magnificent cock, gearing up to fill me to the brim for the first time.

After far too long, and yet nowhere near enough time, I felt Tim’s balls retract into his pelvis as my hand brushed against them on the downstroke. I halted my efforts to stimulate him orally, using my still-pumping hand to steady his shaft as I positioned his cock in my mouth so nothing would leak out, while still giving me enough space inside to collect his semen without any significant issues.

Even as I focused on preparing myself, I didn’t stop pleasuring myself for so much as a single second.

The first shot came with an instant of preamble, as his urethra flexed under my fingers. Immediately after, I felt a warm, gooey fluid on my tongue, salty and viscous. I waited for more to come out, stroking along his frenulum with my tongue as he ejaculated into my mouth.

It didn’t take long. Spurt after spurt shot onto my waiting tongue, pooling to fill the empty spaces around my gums, slowly seeping through my mouth as its volume increased to cover every surface.

A lesser amount reached me a few shots later, then less, progressively decreasing until his penis was twitching in my mouth, without ejecting anything. Tim’s muscles spasmed lightly in time with his cock. His head rested against the deck chair, his support having collapsed so thoroughly that he couldn’t do anything other than lie flat with his eyes scrunched shut.

I slid his cock out slowly, lavishing it with attention as it retracted, cleaning off the surfaces I could reach with my mouth half-full of semen. It emerged with a wet smack, its surfaces glistening with a mix of cum and saliva, the tip joined to my lips with a string of the stuff.

I swallowed it, though with the amount in my mouth it took several tries. I pleasured myself for a few seconds more as the final portion of his load slithered down my throat, feeling the mounting release build up as my mind was taken by thoughts of his cum inside of me.

I stopped before I came anywhere near a climax. I wasn’t interested in simply getting off right now — I wanted it to feel like it meant something, as stupid as that sounded. Call me sentimental, but I wanted to ensure that this wouldn’t just be something I could brush off in a year’s time as a thing I did among many other things. I wanted for everything about today to feel like it meant something. I’d felt in some way that that sense of accomplishment and purpose was missing from mine and Max’s relationship since we formalized it, even before he’d screwed up today.

Tim lay down on the seat still, eyes blinking, gathering his bearings. I held his cock before my face, running my tongue over the tip, down the shaft, even over his balls when I descended far enough, to clean off any excess cum that might still be there.

He jerked, head swivelling down to look at me. I gave him a cheeky grin, sucking on his scrotum a little. I’d heard it was an erogenous zone. Given how painful hitting it was supposed to be, I had a hard time believing that, but I wanted to gauge his reaction before I tried anything more daring.

He whimpered, reaching down to grasp at one of the handrests. He pulled himself back up a fraction, biting his lip as he looked at me. His cheeks were absolutely flushed, his skin flaming red as if he’d suffered the mother of all sunburns. At least he was lucid, which is more than I could’ve said for him a few seconds ago.

He looked from his penis to me, then back again, seeming to consider something as he caught his breath. “H-how did it taste?” he asked, his voice hitting a bit of a wobbly patch, no doubt thanks to my efforts on his balls.

I had to think about that for a moment as I raised my head from his scrotum, the question feeling a little out there. I still wasn’t too sure myself, now that I was considering it. “It was… okay. The taste is kind of weird. I’m not sure I could explain it in a way that doesn’t sound gross, so I won’t try. Just know that it’s not awful, but I don’t think I’d call it _good.”_ Arousing as hell, though. In the end, for this, I supposed that was all that mattered.

He licked up some drool around his mouth, using his arm to clean up the stuff too far to reach. “Oh.” I waited for something more, but it seemed that that was the extent of his ability to speak at the moment.

I licked my way up his shaft, loving his twitches and hitches in his breath, and the resultant heat that trickled from my chest to my core. I still hadn’t cum, so it joined the steadily growing pool of warmth, driving rational thought just that little bit further from me.

I couldn’t stop now. I was aware enough to think, but I’d be fooling myself if I claimed I was fully in control at the moment. There was a slight haze over my thoughts, just enough that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I had to get off. I felt a bead of fluid dribble its way down my leg in confirmation.

I was tempted to put his dick right back in my mouth, finger myself to orgasm as he squirmed against the chair. That, or try something new, taking advantage of my prodigious development to envelop his cock in my breasts, see how much he liked the softness against his skin.

I couldn’t. In my condition, I knew I’d just end up frustrated and disappointed that the main course was right in front of me and I _wasn’t just taking it._ I had a need, one that my hands were unequipped to adequately handle, and I had the solution staring me right in the face, under my nose in the most literal sense.

I straightened up to a standing position. I didn’t miss the disappointment in Tim’s eyes when I let go of his shaft, mingled with confusion at everything that had happened in the past few hours today.

“Could you please get up, Tim?” I asked.

He blinked, then worked to support himself on wobbly legs. He almost flopped off, barely managing to avoid falling as he stood. I reached out to support him, letting go once I was sure he was steady enough not to keel over like a reed in a typhoon.

I sat on the chair in his place, putting me almost at eye level with him, my height still greater by a few inches. “Did you enjoy that?” I asked.

He nodded, a slight smile playing across his lips. “It was amazing, even better than the thing you did before.”

“That’s good. I meant for it to be.”

“Where did you even learn about all this stuff? It’s better than being tickled by Granny.”

I smiled. He was so precious. “You pick it up. As you get older, you start learning things, and adults sometimes tell you about games you can play with the people you care about.”

“Games? Is this a game?”

I wobbled a hand in a ‘so-so’ gesture. “Not really, but it’s the best way I can explain it to you. What it really is is complicated, for a few reasons that I’m not sure you should have to worry about right now. All you need to know, for the moment, is that this is a thing two people who like each other do together, and it feels very good.”

He nodded. “I like you. Does that make it feel better?”

I giggled like a… well, I suppose I _was_ a schoolgirl, but I was really showing it now. I couldn’t help it — he was just so candid. “I guess. Though, as far as I know, that wasn’t the nicest feeling thing we can do together.”

His eyes widened to comical proportions. “There’s something that feels _better?”_

I nodded, aware of how the thundering in my ears rose in prominence. _Make it or break it time_ “There is. Remember how I said that boys and girls fit together well?”

His gaze was intense. “Yeah.”

“Well, I was talking about this.” I reclined a bit, propping myself up on an elbow as I widened my legs. I reached down with my other hand, spreading my labia slightly. “Boys and girls fit together here.”

He looked where I was indicating, frowning even as his cock twitched. “I don’t get it.”

“Well, remember how I made your penis feel good earlier?” He nodded. “And remember how I told you that the same can happen to girls, even though they don’t have a penis?” Another nod. “Right. Something that feels even better is when you put those parts together.”

I could almost see the pieces slotting into place as he thought. “You mean… I’m supposed to put my penis in there?” he asked, pointing to my vagina.

“Yes. It’s one of the best things you’ll ever feel, from what I’ve heard. I’ve never done it before, because you’re only supposed to do it with someone you like a lot.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Don’t you like my brother?”

I snorted. “I thought I did, at least a little. After what I’ve seen here, though, I can’t say I feel that way anymore. I don’t like how he can just bully someone for no reason, especially someone as cute as you.”

He blushed again. His voice, when it came out, was quieter than before, as if he expected the answer to be something he wouldn’t like, but was used to hearing. “Do you like me?”

I got back into a sitting position, bringing him in for a hug. He squeaked at the sudden contact, his head pressing against my breasts. I couldn’t ignore how much of his skin I could feel, so smooth and warm, but I could pretend it didn’t bother me so much, even in my aroused state.

“I do. I really like you. You’re adorable, so resilient and strong, and I just love how respectful and polite you are. There are some kids who annoy me, for various reasons I won’t get into, but you’re not one of them. I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve spent here today, just because I got to hang out with you.”

I felt how tightly he held to me, like I was a pillar in an earthquake, and any movement in a direction that wasn’t towards me would spell his doom. I wouldn’t make a big deal about it. The last thing I wanted was to scare him away by pointing out something he might find embarrassing. For whatever stupid reason, I knew that boys saw sharing an embrace as weak or girly, and I couldn’t imagine that his family made that any easier.

He pushed himself off me after a few seconds, blushing. I almost frowned at the loss of contact — I thought a longer hug would do him a world of good — but I didn’t want to argue with him about it. I’d leave it for some other time.

Instead, I asked: “How about you? Do you like me?”

He nodded immediately, his honesty absolute. “I do! You’ve been nice to me the whole time, and you’ve shown me cool things since you got here. The last girl Max brought just made fun of me, and she liked teasing me when he was away.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know.” He looked away, then back to me, a slight sheen over his eyes. “I really like you.”

I lay back once more, keeping my eyes on him as I directed his attention to my crotch. “Since we both enjoyed the stuff we did before, and we both like each other, would you like to do this with me? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I will. I’m just not sure how.”

“That’s fine — I can talk you through it. It’s super easy, way easier than Marco Polo, and you got that in no time flat. You won’t struggle with this.” _I hope._ My bluster had better pay off; I needed to get off.

He nodded, and I motioned him over to stand before me. I draped my legs down over the front of the chair, letting them fall to the ground below my knees to give him easier access. It was a modified form of the spread eagle position, I think, but I couldn’t be sure of the names. Connoisseur of porn I may’ve been, but it didn’t mean that I knew the technical terms, or any ways to make it comfortable for myself. Most of it is made with males in mind, after all, and almost all of it is meant more for spectacle than instruction.

He stood before my vagina, his penis at half-mast. I said, “Okay, you’re in the right place. From here, you need to take hold of your penis.”

He grabbed his cock, hefting it so it was pointing roughly in the direction of my privates. “Like this?” he asked.

“That’s great. From here, it’s really easy. You just need to aim the tip at the bigger hole you can see in there, and slowly put it in.” Had I not been so wet, I would’ve asked for a little foreplay but, well, that was totally superfluous right now. Probably. Was pool water a good lubricant?

His eyebrows were knitted together in concentration. His bottom lip disappeared into his mouth as he inched forward. I didn’t feel anything for a few seconds, as his penis slowly converged on its target. I started getting a little nervous despite my arousal, feeling a welling uncertainty that mixed oddly with the heat both inward and external.

When I finally felt the tip of his cock against my flesh, I almost jumped. I hadn’t realized I was so sensitive right now. He halted, looking from the place where we were in contact to my face.

“Are you okay? Should I stop?” Tim asked.

I shook my head, feeling the flush of my cheeks. “No, don’t stop. I’m fine, just a little tense. I told you I’ve never done this before.”

He nodded, then lowered his gaze back to his target. I tried to relax as he drove himself slowly forward, my lower lips separating inch by agonizing inch as he cautiously worked to separate them. My muscles were clenching already, even with nothing in there. It was making it harder for him to get in, and all the more frustrating for me, given how slow he was forced to go. It was probably nerves, and I had no idea how to calm down.

Despite the obstruction, he managed to get the tip in. He stopped, adjusted his hands a bit on his shaft, and kept going, his hips drawing ever closer to mine as the seconds ticked by. It was progress, without a doubt. I just wished it proceeded quicker.

Regardless of my frustrations, I could feel the difference. There was some pleasure in the whole thing, with this load that was coming in, forcing my body to accommodate it, but that came with the oddest feeling I’d ever had down there. There wasn’t any pain — I’d always been a pretty active child, so my hymen was likely long gone. Rather, it was the sensation of fullness that threw me for a loop.

Despite my interest in masturbation, porn and sex, I’d never put anything wider than two fingers in there. I’d been curious, certainly, but my parents had bigger expenses to worry about than sex toys, and I wasn’t overly eager to stick random objects in there for the sake of getting myself off. It’s all fun and games until you break a beer bottle inside your vagina mid-orgasm. The aftermath would be nothing short of a nightmare.

That’s a long way of saying that I’d never really experimented. So this, this feeling of fullness, of _stretching,_ of reaching what I believed to be a limit and feeling it slowly expand beyond that, was one of the oddest feelings I’d ever experienced.

 _Not a bad odd,_ I thought as he dug in deeper, brushing up against something that shot a full-body shudder up my spine. _Definitely not a bad odd._

I clenched my hands into fists as Tim went deeper. I chanced a glance over at him. His expression was one I’d rarely seen before, a baffling mix of happiness, intrigue, and apprehension. His eyes looked strained, as if keeping them open was a labour. He was singularly focused on his task. From what I could see, he was about halfway there. It definitely didn’t feel that way, with how expansive his cock felt inside me.

“You okay?” I asked, squeaking immediately after when he jerked in surprise, forcing another two or three inches into me all at once.

“Sorry!” he said, his pitch all over the place. His eyelids were drooping unevenly, the skin twitching. “I d-didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright!” I hadn’t meant to be so loud, but my volume wasn’t entirely under my control right now. My head was swimming from the sudden insertion. “I’m okay. I really like it.”

“M-me too. But it feels weird.”

“That’s fine. Just keep going. It’ll feel better.”

He took my advice to heart, proceeding far faster than before. I couldn’t think fast enough to stifle the moan that emerged, my diaphragm giving up on holding my breath in as he bottomed out.

_Too much, way too much. I should’ve warmed up somehow. This is more than I’ve ever experienced._

I didn’t move, and neither did he. We both had to take a moment to just take stock of this, get back to a state where thought was possible. I pushed back the whiteout of completely new stimulation in places I’d never been touched, focused on my breathing. It was fast, finch-like, with a heartbeat to match. I forcibly stilled it as my eyes focused on Tim. I could hear him trying to say something as clarity returned.

“W-wha-what d-do I…?” He was bent partway down over my lower half, even more worked up than me. Right. I had to remember that, whatever I was feeling, it was probably ten times harder to fight than him, since he was completely unaccustomed even to masturbating — sex was probably several levels above what he could handle right now.

“Tim? Timothy?” His gaze met mine as he panted, wide-eyed and glazed. “It’s alright. From here it’s r-really easy. You just need to pull back u-until your penis is almost out of me, then move forward until it’s where it is n-now, over and over again.”

“W-when do I s-stop?”

“Whenever.” Wait, no, rephrase. “F-for now, maybe when you start letting your s-semen out in me, okay? The white stuff.” It would probably be a bad idea to tell him to keep going until he couldn’t. This would be difficult enough to explain, if we were caught. Add him being comatose, which would make discovery so much easier, and any response would quickly go from alarmed to nuclear.

He gave me half a nod, more a tilt of the head than anything, then slowly started drawing himself out of me. Again, the oddness returned. If going in had felt like I was stretching myself around the thicker end of a baseball bat, this felt like I was shitting it out of the wrong hole. I wasn’t even sure that was close to an accurate description, but I had no prior reference for this. That, and my addled mind, meant that my analogies would probably be all over the place.

He pushed himself back in just when I was starting to feel an emptiness I never had before, filling me up again. His movement forward was jerky, a full-body exertion for something that probably only required his hips. He hilted himself, paused as he screwed his eyes shut, then drew back out.

Unlike when I was giving him a blowjob before, he didn’t develop into anything that could be called a rhythm, even liberally. His back-and-forth was stilted at best, a jerky, uncoordinated mess of motion that had him sometimes making no progress in or out despite his movement, the rest of his body jerking while his hips stayed more or less stationary. Other times, his penis slipped out of me completely, and I had to coax him to place it back in while he was barely lucid enough to understand what I was saying.

I loved every second of it. It could’ve been smoother, faster, more experienced, but that would’ve felt wrong. This, right here, the clumsiness, the uncertainty, was so indicative of his youth. I couldn’t deny that that aspect of things, the taboos I was breaking with every second we maintained such illicit contact, stirred up a fire inside of me that refused to be put out. He was just so cute, and the more he stumbled, the more he showcased just how young and innocent he was, the more aroused I became until my orgasm was set to crash over me. The fact that I found that so arousing probably should’ve been alarming, but in the heat of the moment I couldn’t care less.

He was eagerly pushing himself to completion, hammering away as best he could, his cock pressing down against every button I never even knew I had as he powered through to his release. I saw some drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, his awareness so thoroughly gone that I doubted he could even feel it. His small arms grasped my thighs so softly, his strength feeble even though I knew he was squeezing as hard as he could.

I knew we were nearing the end. I could feel it in his eagerness, in the tingling waves that suffused my skin, reaching down to the bone. I didn’t want it to just end, though. I wanted him to know that he was doing a fantastic job, that I appreciated it.

There was no way I would be able to get that through to him verbally. Even if I could speak, I knew he wouldn’t hear it. As far as I could see, he was lost to the miniature starbursts of ecstasy inside his head.

Instead, I lifted my legs and locked them around him, pulling back to force him forward. He fell with a squeak, his arms letting go of my thighs to slow his fall, each one landing on my ribs. His face was turned to the side as his head fell between breasts. I grabbed hold of him and held him, doing my best to embrace him in a position that wasn’t well-suited to it.

Throughout it all, he didn’t cease his thrusts. His small butt was now just visible when he drew out, his lower half rising and falling with no consistency, but great enthusiasm. I closed my eyes and held on as I felt the beginnings of my climax wash over me, the result of a labour of arousal that had lasted since I’d given him that handjob.

It hit gradually, and all at once, like a wave that you watched approaching shore; knowing it was coming didn’t make the impact any weaker when it collided with you. The sensations were ones I’d experienced before, the blooming numbness across my body, deadening me to anything that wasn’t the pleasure I could feel emanating below, the euphoria that came as blissful signals bombarded me from angles that shouldn’t have made sense. I could probably claim to be a veteran of self-inflicted orgasms, and it wouldn’t even be that much of a lie. The difference between those and what I was going through, here and now, was the intensity.

It washed over me, a million different shots of ecstasy radiating out to every part of me that could make sense of the sensations. My legs tightened around Tim as he continued to pound away, an effort to cope with something so much stronger than any experience I’d ever had. Part of that was almost certainly due to this being my first time having sex. The rest, I was sure, was because of how much I adored my partner.

My vaginal walls contracted, pushing them even harder against Tim’s shaft, allowing me to feel every inch that was in me from an angle I’d never even conceived of before, something so uncanny that I wasn’t sure quite how to think of it. It just threw fuel to the already-raging fire of my orgasm, driving me even further away from reality.

Not so far that I missed it when he stopped moving, tensing up. I caught his wordless exclamation, the second before I felt something warm and filling and wonderful seep into me, an accompaniment to his already amazing cock.

I didn’t have the capacity for much thought after that, everything becoming too much for me. I hugged him close to me as he came, letting it out within me. I couldn’t do much else, every part of me scrambling for an anchor to cling to against the currents of release. The whole thing was drawn out, heavy and delightful and all too much. I had no idea how long it took, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it came to the fore that I’d been cumming for close to two minutes. It felt about a hundred times that long to me, yet nowhere near enough.

Once I came down, I took a moment to get my bearings. Tim lay across my stomach, panting softly. I stroked his hair as soon as I was able, and he groaned, the vibrations pleasant against my skin.

I felt some wetness near his face, dribbling down my abdomen. He must’ve drooled on me. His penis was still inside me, receding by fractions of an inch as it softened, slowly drawing itself out. I could feel the cum inside me following its gradual progress, gliding along my walls as it sat inside me. It was amazing, the feeling of contented wholeness, the certainty that I could take more. I now understood why some women had a kink for creampies — I could get addicted to this, even with the small amount of exposure I’d had so far.

I wanted to lay there forever, letting Tim rest against me as his cock rested within me, long enough even in its flaccid state to act as a plug for the cum he’d put in me. Once he was ready to go again we’d have a repeat performance, sharing in the most intimate embrace we could as the day ended around us. I sorely wanted that. I craved it.

Unfortunately for me, all good things must come to an end. Tim’s head lifted off my stomach, and I craned my head to look at him, our eyes meeting as he did the same.

His smile was wobbly, yet that didn’t make it any less wide and delighted. “That was amazing!”

“I know,” I said, stroking the side of his head. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. I’d love to do that some more—”

“Yeah! We should!”

“—but Max might come back, and we’re not in any state to greet him.”

Tim seemed to realize that for the first time. His head swivelled around to look at where he was laying down, his drool on my stomach. He quickly got off of me, his cock pulled free of my pussy in one smooth stroke that I hadn’t known he could pull off. It was probably more accident than achievement, with how unsteady he was on his feet right now.

I quickly pressed my hand against my vulva, doing my best to plug it up with two fingers while the rest of my hand worked as a bucket to catch whatever got past the inadequate seal. I knew it probably wouldn’t all start flowing out at once, if it did, but that didn’t mean I’d risk it. Water on the patio was only natural after some time in the pool. Cum, not so much.

I quickly got up and started walking towards the pool. Tim struggled to keep up, entering a half-jog to keep pace alongside me, his dick swinging in time with his steps. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Some quick cleaning. Your semen will probably start coming out of me while he’s around if I put my bikini on now, so I just want to try and get rid of it in advance.”

“Oh.” Tim thought about that for a moment, stumbling on his still-unbalanced legs, before he asked, “Can I help?”

I looked at him as we reached the brick, at the guilelessness in his eyes, and my heart melted all over again. “Sure.”

* * *

When Max got back, we were lounging on one of the deck chairs, my back against the rest, Tim laying against my stomach as he dozed. Max, predictably, wasn’t too happy. I didn’t particularly care, especially given he’d delegated babysitting duty to me. He didn’t really have a reason to get angry when it was his fault I was in that position in the first place.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and I found myself wishing I could drag Tim off somewhere we would be given some privacy, free to reenact our indiscretion from earlier. I needed to feel his skin against mine, his length in me, his release as he reached his limit and coated my walls white. It was so much better than hanging around the house, pretending I wanted to be around a guy I knew abused his brother for no good reason.

I knew we couldn’t have a repeat performance, not today. Max, if not exactly suspicious, was starting to get pissy. I didn’t want to have to deal with someone who’d be nosing around if he thought something was up. So, I played the part as well as I could, reacting as I thought he would want me to, saying all the things I felt he’d like. Hollow, all of it, and I knew it. Hopefully it was good enough to fool him.

When I left, it was with a goodbye to both of them. Max’s was rote, something I did out of habit. Tim’s, though, was full of promise, a warmth I hoped only he would detect. I was already making plans for the next time we met up as I walked back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Critique is more than welcome. I'm still learning a heck of a lot, given how much of a novice I am, so I'd appreciate it greatly. If anyone has any valuable criticism with regards to my use of a female perspective, I'd be thankful.


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